


Reproductive x Assurance

by brocon



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Begging, Breeding, Desperation, Dirty Talk, Dubious Consent, Exhibitionism, Fertility Drug, Foot Fetish, Foot Jobs, Humiliation, Illumi Zoldyck POV, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Restraints, Sibling Incest, Underage Sex, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-11-15 05:03:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 23,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18067097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brocon/pseuds/brocon
Summary: "All heirs must undergo a Reproductive Assurance procedure, so that in the event of an untimely death, damage to your reproductive system, an impotent coupling, high infant mortality, or other failure of your reproductive duty, the family will be able to ensure the stability of the next generation."No immunity whatsoever to a substance sounded like complete helplessness. It was practically a swear word.Killua rediscovers what helplessness and vulnerability feel like, Illumi intends to help him through it.





	1. Nobility Saves No One

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to the wonderful (and incredibly patient) @shikiawakusu for enabling me to create this fic I've wanted to create for a long time now. I'm incredibly grateful for you and your friendship. ❤️❤️  
> And Happy Birthday to you in a few days!!

This was a command Father knew Killua wouldn’t accept. Orders were usually handed down via typical means of Illumi or a butler, but instead Killua and Illumi were directly summoned to Father’s inner chambers. Due to the nature of the order, Illumi knew his presence would be a point of contention, but Father needed someone there to restrain Killua in case he lost control of himself. As always, Illumi reminded Father: he was the best person to handle Killua when he lashed out.

The den was lit in a dull blue hue, some of the hounds prowling around and sniffing Killua as he came in. There was something about powerful Zoldyck Nen comforted them instinctually. Even new hounds immediately recognized Father as their master, sitting or crouching in tandem with flareups of his aura or a raise of his voice. Once, when Illumi was a boy, Father told him in confidence that this was why he loved hounds. Even untrained, they were smart enough to recognize who was in command.

Killua extended his hand to pet a muzzle, smiling as a long tongue came out to lick his palm in submission. They already recognized Killua as a lesser master, already understood the concept of an heir without knowing the societal and familial structures of humans. They would serve Killua well when he finally took the torch.

As soon as he spotted Illumi in the corner of the room, his smile retreated back into his mouth. Illumi’s presence meant he wouldn’t like what Father had to say.

“Sit,” Father said without raising his voice, and Illumi watched every tail in the room hasten towards the floor. For as much as Killua needed his actions to feel like his own, he timed perfectly with the hounds. Father’s stature looked even larger when Killua was sitting on the floor.

Illumi received the wordless cue to secure the doors so that Killua couldn’t bolt. Especially since gaining his electric Nen abilities, he was faster than Illumi and Father. The risk was too great to leave it up to chance. The future of the Zoldyck empire depended on this.

“What’s _he_ doing here?” There was edge in his voice instantly that wasn’t there before.

“That’s not your concern.” Killua opened his mouth to protest, but Father continued on, his deep voice drowning out the panting and shuffling of the hounds. “Killua, we’ve let you run around and have your fun and freedom, but you still have responsibilities here. You wonder why we lock doors behind you when I said you will not be confined again. But first you will do your duty. Only then may you go free.”

 He always talked back to Father, as if anything he could say would leverage the situation in his advantage. In that way, he was already assuming his role as heir. Needing to grab power from the one you will succeed was a sign of a strong, hungry heir. Killua was no hound. “What, you want me to do a job? I told you I’m done with that, but if you’re really this desperate, I’ll do it. This place is already getting boring, I want to leave.” He’d been visiting for his sixteenth birthday, but the festivities were officially over.

Even still, the disrespect pumped blood out of Illumi’s extremities and made them tingle. He hoped Father couldn’t see him pressing his hands together, intertwining his fingers like breeding snakes. Before the meeting started, he had been given a gruff reminder to behave himself.

Father heaved a great sigh, his chest visibly rising and falling even in the poor lighting. He hated back-and-forths with his sons. Illumi would have already been ordered to the isolation chamber at such a defiance. “Your attitude will change nothing. This is not a request, it’s an order. I’m simply reminding you as a courtesy that you’ll be free to go afterwards.”

“If it’s not up for debate, then disclaimers don’t matter. Just tell me so we can get it over with.”

“Fine. All heirs must undergo a Reproductive Assurance procedure, so that in the event of an untimely death, damage to your reproductive system, an impotent coupling, high infant mortality, or other failure of your reproductive duty, the family will be able to ensure the stability of the next generation.”

Killua’s face lit pink in the blue lighting, his eyes snapping over to Illumi and back again so quickly he didn’t expect Illumi to see. But Illumi always saw. “Pops, you’re going senile. I already did that. You made me do it as soon as I was capable of—of—” Eyes whipped to Illumi again, as if needing someone who would say the proper words in his place. He was always too flustered over these things. But Illumi couldn’t help him. He was forbidden to speak until spoken to, lest he ‘ _make it worse_ ,’ as Father had phrased it.

“ _That_ sample is what we’ve collected from all of your brothers. That’s not the same as the Reproductive Assurance procedure. You were not old enough for it until now.”

“So, I just get a magazine and jerk it into a cup?”

The snakes of Illumi’s fingers twisted faster. He forced himself to look at one of the hounds instead of Killua’s defiled mouth. _Suddenly he could say it_? It made Illumi’s guts flip to think of what filthy street urchin he’d learned that from. He’d find the man who’d uttered that phrase in front of the Zoldyck heir, reach in through his slit throat, and pull his tongue backwards down his trachea.

Shit. His aura was spiking.

Father gracefully ignored it in all the ways Illumi couldn’t. “The procedure will take two weeks from start to finish. You’ll begin by taking pills. It will end with the collection of multiple samples.”

“Two weeks? _Oh, come on_. Surely I can take double the dose and be done in a week.”

“I advise you to begin taking this seriously. I’m aware of your limits, and I say it will take two weeks.”

“When there’s a new drug, it only takes me a week to become immune. I’ve gotten stronger since—”

“Killua.”

That stopped him. The look in Father’s eyes stopped him cold and made his drawn eyebrows float helplessly, confusion and concern setting in. From the corner of the room where Illumi stood guard, he could hear Killua swallow.

“You have no immunity to this strain of drug. The point of this procedure is for the drug to be fully effective, so you will experience the full effects, same as any common person. It is an advanced compound of super-fertility drug designed and perfected by our predecessors for this very purpose. It needs two weeks to build up fully in your system and reach maximum potency.”

“M-maximum?” A bead of sweat travelled down his jawline at the mention of having no immunity. Illumi had to admit, the idea was unthinkable to a Zoldyck. No immunity whatsoever to a substance sounded like complete helplessness. It was practically a swear word.

“Our aim is obtaining the strongest and highest number of sperm samples that you are capable of producing. This is the perfect age for your body to accept the drug. It builds slowly, reaches a peak, and then wears off rapidly as soon as you miss a dose. That means the peak must be intense enough to allow for multiple emissions with short refractory periods, increasing the likelihood of optimum samples. If your body accepts it under ideal circumstances, it will also increase your production quality and rate in the future, potentially even decades down the line.”

Father had undergone this in his youth too, of course. Father having conceived five sons in only twenty-four years suddenly made sense.  

“Why? Why do you need…. _so much_?” His voice fell to a whisper.

“We store the samples in multiple locations, some of which you do not have permission to know about. Some of them I do not have permission to know about. Of course, there will be one in our freezer here with the others, but there are also locations in other continents. They will be kept under varying pseudonyms and circumstances, just in case.”

It made him uneasy to think about so many people having access to Killua’s reproductive material, but it was a tried and honored Zoldyck tradition that he was far from qualified to question. They certainly had failsafes and checks against unsavory people getting their hands on it in other continents.

“In case of what? What could possibly happen for you to need _that much_?”

Father used his large fingers to count them out: “A coup, the total destruction of the estate, if you go rogue and try to destroy your own samples, if I or your mother attempt filicide, if we are bound by laws which compromise our homebound samples or our ability to obtain the samples, if we are attacked by Nen that destroys the samples—you’re creative and smart enough to think of the possibilities in which destruction could befall a few samples. That cannot be permitted to happen. All heirs must have a surviving sample in case of eventualities.”

“Fine. All I have to do is take that medicine for two weeks, you get your samples, and then I’m free to go?”

“Precisely.”

“Sounds simple enough.”

“Simple, yes. Easy, no.” Father put his temples between his large fingers, pressing as if anticipating a headache or some kind of other anguish. This caused Killua’s back to straighten in worry. “You need to be mentally prepared for this task. I went through it at your age. It was—” He searched for words that accurately described his memories. “It was like going back to childhood training, like being five years old again. You’re no longer immune. There are no self-taught resources or acquired strengths for you to rely on. You are vulnerable, you are fully consumed by the effects. You will require help. That’s why you must be home.”

“Help—with _what_ , exactly?”

“The side-effects will become immense. You will not be permitted to release yourself until the end of the two weeks. This will become increasingly difficult as the effects of the medication begin to compound. You will need help caring for yourself while you’re restrained.” Father looked up at Illumi and Killua bristled at the very notion. “I will not tell you who you to choose, as long as it is someone in our employ who we can trust to carry out our instructions.”

Killua thought for a moment, as if he had to rush to choose someone or have his choice taken away from him. Finally, he said, “Canary.”

“I understand you and she are close, but this may not be a situation in which you want a young woman your age whom you are close to.”

“I choose Canary.” His voice grew more stubborn, Father’s shoulders drooping.

“Very well. You may change your mind if the arrangement does not work out. Just as we will replace her if it appears necessary to do so for any reason.”

Killua stood, clearly uncomfortable with his own thoughts. His urge to run from unpleasant things was once again his downfall. “May I go?”

“Yes. I will summon Canary and provide her instructions and a timeline of expectations. You will take the first dose tonight, but you shouldn’t feel any effects for a week.”

Illumi unsealed the doors, stepping aside to allow Killua through.

“It goes without saying, but the procedure begins as soon as you start the first dose. Do not release yourself—recreationally or otherwise—until the procedure is over. If you do, this attempt at the procedure will be void. You will have to start all over again, and it will take another two weeks. Speaking from experience, it’s better to succeed the first time. So stay vigilant.”

Something like horror settled on Killua’s face, for only a split second, before he cleared it off. Ever the stubborn brat, he had always refused to blanche at trainings, torture, or orders. “That’s gross, Pops. Don’t talk about that.”

 

True to Father’s briefing, Killua began taking the R.A. drug immediately.

That night, Canary was given a thorough, six-hour orientation to the timeline and expectations of her new assignment. When she emerged at 3AM, she went directly into Killua’s chambers and gave him the first dose, not permitted to separate from him from that point forward. This included the restroom, as Killua quickly discovered.

That brought a point of contention, as if Killua hadn’t understood the first time what was expected of him. Illumi understood it quite clearly, which was why Father had assigned him the head of the project in his stead.

When Killua came down for breakfast that morning, roaring and throwing clawed hands into the air, Illumi was prepared for his indignance. There was no possible way Killua, with his strong will and unnecessary hang-ups over privacy, would undergo the procedure without many, many fights.

“Where’s Dad? I did _not_ agree to be stared at in the bathroom!”

They were having pancakes for breakfast: it was meant to cheer Killua up. There were chocolate chips in his stack, but he didn’t seem to notice. Canary hovered behind him like a haunting spirit, her face drawn up in concern, as if she would be punished for his protesting. But that wasn’t how things were done. If he was so upset, that meant she was doing her job well, precisely to the letter. “I witnessed your consent to the R.A. procedure.”

Killua’s eyes landed on him, eyebrows crashing together in disgust. “I’m not going to talk _to you_ about it. I want to talk to Dad.”

“Papa is gone, Killu. He and Zeno went on a job. They won’t be back for a few days.” Mother said, stirring her berry parfait. She always declined heavy foods such as pancakes or rice dishes in the morning. Even though she wore a billowing white nightgown, she never stained it with the dark berries she slid between her teeth. They darkened her lips like lip stain.

“Why would he leave right after he assigned th—” He stopped short, strangled by his own humiliation. Cheeks always so quick to turn red.

“What, you thought he’d decline a job for your little boner project?” Milluki snorted, stabbing the final bit of pancake off his second plate and waving it around. There was a puffiness around his eyes that said he hadn’t yet been to sleep. There were some important elections going on, he must have been swamped with hacking and remote assassination assignments.

“Why do you know that? Mind your business, _pig_!”

Kalluto watched quietly, hair swinging back and forth with the bobble of his head as he watched his brothers argue. It fell on Illumi to mediate, as usual. He had to set a good example for the youngest. _What would our family do without you?_ When Illumi felt discouraged by the hardships of older brother life—no one appreciated him, and they shut him out of their bedrooms—Mother would wrap his neck in a scarf that smelled of her and reminded him with a honeyed whisper: _What would this family do without your love, Illu?_

Above the clinking of silverware, Illumi began speaking in his most soothing, brotherly voice, hoping to reach past Killua’s defense mechanisms and make him realize. “Father briefed everyone. It’s a vital procedure that is of the highest importance for all of us. It may come to a point where it takes more than Canary to restrain you from—”

“So right, Illu! This is a momentous occasion for the entire family. _Manhood!_ ” Mother became shrill when she was too excited, hand splintering the carnival glass of her parfait dish. A darkness wrapped around the edges of her visor, shaking with intensity. “I can’t wait to have Killu’s baby in my arms~ But don’t call me Grandma, okay? I’ll simply die! He’ll have to call me ‘Mama’ too.”

“Oh. He’s gone.” Kalluto said.

He’d fled the dining room, Canary having disappeared into thin air as well. She was doing well to keep up with him so closely.

This was a good opportunity to abandon the pancakes Illumi had stacked on his own plate, of which he’d only removed a few triangles of spongey cake. In truth, he hated sticky, sugary foods, but Killua couldn’t know he was too rigid to eat common pancakes with syrup. Who knew what that kind of information would do to his opinion of his eldest brother? No, it was best to just choke down the pancakes when Killua was around.

Taking the stack of chocolate chip pancakes on Killua’s favorite plate (engraved with Blue-chinned sapphires and strawberries—part of a set that wasn’t often used, but Illumi requested Killua’s meals brought out on them when he was in a bad mood) and a pitcher of syrup, he made his way towards Killua’s room.

“I brought your pancakes.”

“Get out.” Killua’s head was in his hands, blue eyes pressed into his palms. White hair a fray of unkempt, distressed strands sticking up everywhere. Canary was sitting beside him on the bed, a comforting hand on the center of his shoulder blades. Emotional support was in the job description, after all. “I’m not hungry.”

A passing butler had offered him a serving tray on his way, which he now balanced everything on in an orderly fashion. Fork and knife on a cloth napkin, blue-chinned sapphires poking their beaks from smears of chocolate. This was how it felt to be a butler.

Setting the tray near Killua’s pillows, he placed himself in Killua’s would-be line of sight, if he weren’t staring into the flesh of his hands. “You’re upset. But refusing food won’t change the situation.”

“You don’t understand. _You_ don’t have to do this. You’ve never done this.”

Although he’d never admit it, Killua had always taken comfort in knowing his brothers, father, and grandfather had gone through similar tough trainings as had been implemented on him. Waterboarding in particular had been difficult, the psychological aspects of the unknown, the strenuous amount of expectation building like a ball in his stomach to fill him with stress and anxiety. But what had gotten him through it, ultimately, was the knowledge that every other family member had survived it up until that point. The expectation that he would also survive it or maybe the feeling of solidarity had removed, at the very least, the aspect of fear.

“My genetic makeup is inferior to yours. It would do no good for me to do it.”

As soon as he said it, he realized it didn’t help. After hitting the air, it fell to the ground without being received in the slightest.

He tried again.

“Father did it.”

“I don’t care! It’s humiliating. No offense, Canary—but I don’t want anyone watching me use the bathroom!”

No, a butler shouldn’t watch a Zoldyck do such intimate things. Illumi agreed with him on that charge. “You may feel better if it’s your family, instead, who is there when you—”

His head snapped up at that, fury making his hair rise more than the stress had made it frazzled. “I said it has nothing to do with her. I don’t like someone standing in the restroom while I use it!”

That covered them in a heavy silence.

“Perhaps if I stood just outside the door—” she stopped herself, realizing she wasn’t alone with Killua and that speculating change could easily be confused with questioning timeless Zoldyck methods. “I mean, if that would be permissible.”

Illumi opened his mouth to say ‘ _no, that completely defeats the purpose_ ,’ when he saw the look of hope brighten Killua’s eyes and lighten the shadow on his brow. That, mixed with the inappropriate pity Illumi already felt, crumbled him. “This early in the timeline, you are at low risk for sabotaging the procedure. I may be able to arrange a camera installation, with a monitor so that Canary may still maintain vigilance.”

“Thank you, Illumi.” He sounded so relieved, having nearly resigned himself to his own miserable fate. But the expression only lasted a moment as he realized he was being grateful for a compromise on an agony he didn’t deserve in the first place. Most of which still awaited him.

“I’ll see Millu immediately. Shouldn’t take long.”

It was worth the risk he was taking to see Killua grab the tray of pancakes and begin eating. The healthy appetite he had when it came to food items with chocolate made Illumi’s heart swell with a pride he didn’t understand. It was stupid to feel such powerful pride over Killua eating chocolate chip pancakes, uncovering the sight of his favorite birds and strawberries.

 

Things progressed smoothly for days, Killua spending all of his time holed up in his room with Canary, playing video games, watching movies, and eating junk food. Occasionally, he would get restless, race her around the property or spar with her, play with the hounds, or teach Kalluto new Nen tricks. He kept his phone calls to Gon limited, not because he was forbidden from speaking to him, but because it was becoming increasingly difficult not to divulge the procedure.

It felt good to know there were still things about himself and his family that he would not foolishly divulge to Gon Freecs.

Every evening, Canary ran through a questionnaire with him, documenting his changes. This early in the procedure, it was fairly simple, mainly consisting of questions Killua would verbally respond to, such as if he’d noticed changes in body shape/function, appetite, sleeping habits, thoughts, mood, and libido. Every night, after it was completed, Canary submitted it to Illumi for review and documentation.

Each time, Killua answered ‘no’ to all of the questions.

Illumi had to intervene again.

When Illumi came into his room, he was finishing up a conversation with Gon, one foot tucked beneath this body on the bed, his other leg spread wide to make room for it. Canary was sitting on the leather couch in the far corner, watching him idly with chin in hand. Her head was tilted heavily to one side, eyes looking tired. While the butlers were trained to withstand multiple days, or even weeks of standing guard, it was never ideal when it could be avoided.

“Well, just wait for me, idiot! It will only be another week and I’ll be free.”

He shifted his position uncomfortably when he saw Illumi.

“Yes, I’m serious. Why wouldn’t you wait for me?” There was an edge to his voice that usually wasn’t present when he spoke to Gon. Usually he saved that tone when speaking to Illumi. “Fine! Go ahead then. I’m not going to stop you.” He huffed, turning away from Illumi pointedly, as if just being under his gaze was causing his mood and conversation to sour. “I’m not in a bad mood. No—n—Gon, I’ll talk to you later, okay? My stupid brother is hovering over me. Alright. Yeah. Bye.”

Letting his phone clatter to the floor, he heaved a throaty sigh. “What do you want?”

Instead, he spoke to Canary. “You may go back to your quarters for a few hours of rest. I will complete tonight’s questionnaire.”

Killua stood, flight response activated. “Wait—you can’t—I chose Canary!”

“It’s only for a few hours. Do you not see how tired she is?”

Canary stood, her eyes falling on Killua only for a moment before bowing and dismissing herself. She knew whose orders held the most weight in this situation. The briefing had prepared her for the eventuality that Killua would become unstable; she had to consult another family member for orders if there were any contradictions.

“Since when are you filled with compassion?”

A resentment kicked up in him that wouldn’t have helped the situation. _Of course he was compassionate, who ever said he wasn’t?_ But he buried it. “It was convenient. You aren’t being honest with her.”

“What?” A spark of electricity in his aura, an inappropriately intense reaction.

 “Your questionnaires—' _nothing has changed?’_ No changes at all?”

“That’s right.” His eyes betrayed him. He knew exactly what Illumi was talking about.

Illumi frowned. Pulling up a chair across from Killua’s place on the bed, clipboard and pen in hand. “If you’re not experiencing any side effects by now, I will have to contact Father.” He had memorized the timeline of expected symptoms. “We may have to start over.”

“No!”

“Are you certain you’ve been telling Canary the truth? No symptoms or changes recently?”

Silence. He clasped his hands together.

Illumi read through the questions unassumingly, as if he didn’t know what symptom should have revealed itself by now.

“Any physical changes?”

“No.”

“Emotional? Thoughts?”

“No.”

“Libido?”

“Mm.”

“Killu?”

“Yes. _Yes_ , okay? Libido is uh, higher.”

“Erections?”

He nodded.

“Good.”

“What do you mean _good_?”

“It’s consistent with the timeline.” Setting down the clipboard, he stood, walking over to Killua and putting a hand into his hair. “If you’re unable to be honest with Canary, we must replace her.”

“No! I’ll be honest with her.” His collarbones stood out more intensely when he panicked, the muscle of his neck flexing as he looked up, awaiting his verdict. Illumi wanted to wrap his fingers around it and push, just to see the confusion bloom in his eyes. But that would compromise his orders, which were paramount.

“Canary can stay with you from morning until night. At night, I will do your evaluation and watch over you.”

“I refuse. Dad told me I could pick whoever I wanted.”

“She will also be able to rest rather than staying up for two weeks straight. Although, she is under our employ. If that’s what you demand of her, it is what she will do.”

He quieted. Being consumed with his own predicament had caused him to overlook the strain in her eyes. She hid it well, but he probably considered it a moral failing on his part to not notice and consider her comfort. She’d barely had the time to change her clothes and hadn’t showered because he couldn’t leave her sight. “Okay—fine.”

“Killu, it will only get more difficult. When you start to break, you need to tell me.”

It was then that understanding condensed in his eyes. It wasn’t just a blanketed anxiety and irritation for the unknown trials that he would be forced through. His options were to do this right or fail. And to do it right meant laying his sense of comfort and pride on the sacrificial altar.

 

He’d missed watching Killua sleep. He’d stood in this spot in Killua’s bedroom ever since he was an infant old enough to be in his own bedroom. Back when he could slip his finger into Killu’s tiny fist and it would tighten, holding him instead of pushing him away. He’d been there as Killua’s crib became a bed and his bed was replaced with bigger models.

But ever since Killua had grown more independent and aware, he could catch Illumi slipping into his room even when he was in the deepest part of his sleep cycle. Killua had persisted, over and over, in kicking him out until Illumi could no longer enter his room at night. Those had been upsetting times for everyone. Illumi had taken it out on Kalluto and Milluki—even went as far as making up excuses to drag Killua into the dungeon for punishment, watching him sleep in shackles instead of in his nice, warm bed.

Sometimes, Illumi had troubles adjusting to change.

What an auspicious turn of events that this procedure would allow him back into Killua’s room after sundown, standing in his favorite spot to observe Killua’s breathing patterns, count his kicks, ensure his airways were unblocked and weren’t showing signs of sleep apnea. And now, he watched Killua’s hands and the movement of his hips to ensure there was nothing that would stimulate any nightly erections to emission.

Watching for erections as well.

It was an unexpected tribulation on Illumi’s part, especially after encountering the first one that pressed up against the surface of his blankets. Not that he’d never seen Killua get hard before—but he’d never been unable to take care of his own matching reaction. He couldn’t leave Killua unattended, so he was left standing there, his own erection aching to escape the confines of his pants, unable to eliminate the distraction properly. Both of his options—willing it down or letting his body wear itself out for six to eight hours—were equally unappetizing. But everyone had to make sacrifices for Killua’s Reproductive Assurance.

A few times, Killua’s hands or hips would become too eager. Illumi had to catch his wrist or wake him, Killu’s cheeks reddening in equal parts of embarrassment and anger. In backlash, Illumi had his hands smacked away, been scowled at, and the bathroom door slammed in his face. Illumi watched through the monitor as Killua stepped into a cold shower, alleviating his own situation while aggravating Illumi’s.

During the day, Illumi masturbated furiously, hoping to prevent his libido from resurrecting in the dark and quiet of Killua’s room. But the slick of saliva on Killua’s parted lips and small groans of the drug taking hold of his young body won out against Illumi’s best laid efforts. He hadn’t known his own body was capable of this kind of defiance.

On the eighth day, there was a significant increase in Killua’s libido during daylight hours. He ran cold water constantly, walked around shivering with wet hair and snapping at anyone who spoke to him. His pants got more loose-fitting as he tried to hide his body’s reactions from Canary—a pointless attempt that was the exact reason she was a poor choice for this job—and he stopped playing video games or watching movies with any remotely sexual themes.

Illumi only knew this from reading Canary’s reports. As soon as morning came and Canary arrived, Killua barked at him to get out. Even though Illumi could have taken a few simple jobs during the day, he chose to refuse all assignment requests during this time. Just in case something went wrong, just in case he was needed at a moment’s notice. He spent a lot of time reading the reports, masturbating, showering, and pacing around his room. He dropped in on Kalluto when he was home, making small talk and wringing his hands until Kalluto looked like he wanted privacy. He dropped by Milluki’s room until Milluki blatantly kicked him out. Then he’d walk by Killua’s door again, find it locked, lay in his bed and text a few people to distract himself. Hisoka would sometimes answer, but Chrollo never responded.

Whether Killua came down for meals was a tossup. His disdain for everything his family said and did served as a desperately-needed distraction, but he ran the risk of his body betraying him all the same, sporting his shame beneath a plate of roasted duck. Illumi tried to coax him out, arguing that since the family had been briefed, it would be expected and uneventful if he were to get an erection at dinner, but that only made him slam the door harder the second time.

Despite all of the idle time on his hands, he had made the correct decision in staying home because it became necessary to intervene again. Using the guise of a plate of dinner brought by a butler, Illumi slipped in his room after being turned away three times that day. Under any other circumstances, he would have waited for Killua’s mood to recover, but that seemed highly unlikely when the cause was only growing more intense.

Taking a measured risk, he decided to bring it up while Killua was having dinner. If he had something else to focus his senses and energy on, maybe he’d be less likely to lash out. “Canary, have you begun taking measurements yet?”

Her eyes dipped low, trailing across the golden egg-and-dart pattern on the area rug beneath Killua’s bed. “Not yet, Master Illumi.”

Canary was better than this. She hadn’t forgotten or neglected—she was hesitating due to their history. Another nail in the coffin as to why she wasn’t the person for this job, as Illumi would have laid out in bullet points to Father if he had been home.

_If you cannot handle this assignment, you may contact me. But I trust you do not want to call me home, interrupting my assignment in the name of incompetence._

Of course not, Father. Illumi could handle this.

“Measurements?” He asked, his mouth full, looking assaulted that Illumi had snuck his way back into his room during daylight hours.

Canary looked to Illumi, but Illumi refused to relent. This was her assignment. He wouldn’t bear the brunt of delivering any more bad news in her stead.

“Master Killua,” She crossed both arms behind her back and straightened her posture, reminding herself that she was a professional. “As today is the eighth day, I am to begin taking measurements of your,” a breath, “testicles.”

As composed as could be expected from a young woman who had been close to him for most of their lives.

“Wh—” Killua stopped, determined not to repeat himself for days on end. Instead, his frown jerked his mouth low and he swallowed his mouthful of food. “Can I measure myself?”

“Yes, that is permitted, as long as I can observe and double-check your estimation.”

“Canary, I—” He stopped, looking uncomfortable, shifting the tray on his lap to be certain it was positioned well enough to cover what was yet another nagging surge of arousal. Possibly at the mention of his own testicles, or her eyes on his naked body and erection, however platonically the circumstance. The body could react to about anything when thousands of milligrams of catalyst were swimming through its system. “You can go back to your quarters early tonight. Illumi will take over from here.”

Illumi tried to keep his heart from soaring, but it was pounding too hard to keep it from taking flight. It wanted to burst from his chest.

“As you wish. I will see you in the morning.” Her shoulders drooped in what was unmistakable relief. She maintained value in having a casual, friendly relationship with him, and knew that it would be damaged by awkward encounters that neither of them would be able to forget in the future. Handing Illumi the clipboard with the blank paperwork to be filled in on top, she dismissed herself.

Illumi stayed incredibly still, mouth shut, waiting for Killua to finish his dinner before he let his eagerness get ahead of him. He busied himself with reading over Canary’s answers on the sheets underneath, listening to Killua’s silverware clinking against the plate with jittery movements that were unlike his usual eating patterns. It was rare that they were alone these days, both of them conscious.

Finally, Killua dropped his silverware, setting the tray across the room and then returning to his spot on the bed. Just from the sound of his footsteps on the area rug, Illumi could tell he was walking differently. It was strange to witness him so out of sorts.

During their training, if Killua had been so observably off his prime, Illumi would have gotten to work on rectifying it. Examining his muscles, checking his temperature, sending his blood to the lab for a profile of illness. Depending on how those results came back, he would either send him to bed, to the infirmary, or force him to work through the pain under guidance.

But now, he had to watch Killua continually get worse. Slower reflexes, awkward gait, inconsistent appetite and sleep patterns, poor mood and mental capacity—less himself. There was nothing to be done about it.

“Alright—let’s get this over with.” He plopped down on the bed, the clinking sound of his nimble fingers on the button and zipper of his shorts. According to Canary’s notes, he always changed his shorts after dinner, unable to handle the constriction anymore, and put on loose-fitting pajamas. There were a few days marked in which he just wore pajamas, but his morale fell too low and he had to begin the day by dressing, even if he only lasted a few hours before undressing again. “Don’t tell me you aren’t ready for this—we both know that’s a lie.”

When he looked up, Killua was naked from the waist-down, one leg bent in order to obscure Illumi’s view, holding his hand out for the tape measure. “Give it.” His voice sounded deeper than it ever had in the past, which pulled Illumi’s guts in all directions.

The way his feet—having grown a size larger than he last remembered—dangled limply from his carved ankles, bones visible like tightrope holding his pale skin aloft, made Illumi come towards him, tape measure in hand, and kneel at the foot of the bed. The clipboard lay at his knees, forgotten, as he began to measure.

“Hey! What are you—” His voice skidded to a stop at the feeling of Illumi’s hot breath on his calves, breaking his legs out in goosebumps all the way up his thighs. His skin was overly-sensitive already, the way Illumi manically wrapped the cold plastic tape over the arch of his foot, around his heel, ankle, and toes made his muscles flex instinctively. “Stop,” he breathed, almost a beg, as Illumi pressed his lips to the top of his foot.

He was merciful. Sliding his hands up Killua’s calf and thigh until his eyes landed on a straining erection that Killua was trying fruitlessly to cover with shaking, over-stimulated hands. “It’s already this bad?” Illumi muttered to no one, his jaw clenching tightly at the curve of stiff penis peeking out from the valley of his thumb. His fingernails were bitten short. He only bit his fingernails when he was under incredible stress.

“Get it over with!” Killua’s voice jumped out like a rabid dog, whipping his leg to the side to further give Illumi access to his testicles. Illumi normally would have given him a hard time for rolling onto his back (quite literally) and giving up the fight so quickly, but his own erection was straining against the inside of his pants, breath a mess of shorts huffs as he wrapped the tape gently around the soft, hanging flesh.

Although he wasn’t deliberately sniffing, the smell of sweat banged around in his senses so hard he could barely read the measuring tape. The intimate areas that made Killua cry out when touched were so close to his face, his mouth—any other time, he would have pressed his mouth against every curve and dip, dutifully rocking him into oblivion. But no, not now—he couldn’t, no matter how much his tongue moved over his lips, oral fixation flaring at the familiar scent.

Once he registered and memorized the numbers, he quickly withdrew, realizing he was causing Killua (and himself) more agony than necessary. Neither of them could do anything about this. In that way, they were suffering together in solidarity. Father had certainly never had someone who suffered along with him.

He didn’t even have to tell Killua he was aroused—Killua knew. The look in his eyes said he knew as he awkwardly stepped into the bathroom for his cold shower and loose clothing routine, he looked less alone.

 

The ramping of symptoms was immense after that. The plateau of “constant, irritating erections” was supposed to last much longer than it had, but it was now on a rapid incline instead. Killua woke up every night for the next few nights, sometimes multiple times per night, with intense erections. Some of them came on so suddenly that it was painful, the blood feeling sucked directly from his neck and chest to race down to his lower half. In his half-awake state, eyes lidded over like an eclipse, he tried to masturbate it away, which was put to a stop with Illumi’s rapid reflexes. Resorting to punching his mattress, biting his hand, and storming into the bathroom with a slam of the door. On the tenth night, Illumi had to pull his bathroom door off the hinges and physically stop him from touching himself.

It was getting more dangerous. He’d grown so sensitive and pent-up that even a few seconds of jerking himself off could ruin everything. Illumi had to stop him from ruining this for his own sake.

Killua wasn’t used to losing control of himself. Even during rigorous training and physical torture, he never lost control of his own actions. Illumi’s hypnosis and conditioning—those had been, in a way, not a true loss of control on Killua’s part. Someone else’s ability had been involved, someone stronger than him, so he couldn’t really say his own will was being broken. But this—going against his own better judgment, inhibitions, and self-control—was the true feeling of being brought to his knees. It was a massive truth to swallow: his sexual arousal could control him. Not being able to resist his own hand wandering into his pants could make his life a living hell, but he was still doing it.

Canary was dismissed altogether, except for remaining on-call in case her help was needed at a moment’s notice.

He had no choice but to trust fully in Illumi, who had no reservations or humiliations about doing what needed to be done to keep Killu from sabotaging himself. Desperate times called for men like Illumi. _These are the times in which you are irreplaceable, Illu. Mama’s sharp, shining needle that keeps this family sewn together._

Daytime became just as bad. When he wasn’t eating, he was fighting his body. Video games were too stimulating and irritated him more than anything. With a short fuse and fast-moving blood, he became even more limited in the activities he could enjoy. Illumi suggested studying, which was unstimulating and forced him to focus his concentration and energy, but it didn’t work for long as he became bored and his mind wandered to filthy, intrusive thoughts.

They played cards, chess, and word games. Illumi kept beating him, which spiked his blood pressure up and into the regions he didn’t want it. Letting him win did the same thing. It was hopeless, so they turned on cartoons and child-friendly movies and tried to focus on the simple plots and bright colors for as long as it could keep Killua’s attention. He took frequent bathroom breaks, screamed into his pillow, and swore he never wanted to have another erection in his life.

Illumi couldn’t help but laugh behind a hand when he loudly declared that he’d never have sex again.

They hadn’t spent this much time together since Killua was little—back when he enjoyed cartoons immensely and loved it when Illumi let him win. When Killua held his hand, gave him wide, bright smiles, and begged to wear Illumi’s old shirts to bed, which hit him just past his knees—

“Showering,” Killua announced, his voice strained as he left the room.

Seating himself in front of the monitor, watching Killua’s clothes fall off, Illumi realized he would need to cheat. As much as he enjoyed the noble idea of suffering with Killua, both wrestling their arousal like a celibate couple awaiting their wedding night, he was no good to Killua while his own will was compromised. His own distraction could lead to Killua’s failure—which was _both_ of their failures at this point. _Nobility saves no one_ , as Father would say.

The fourth bathroom camera, which was hanging from the shower head, watched him step in to another ice-cold stream. Illumi rapidly unzipped his pants, not certain how long it would take for the cold water to quell his hot blood enough for him to come back out, pulled himself clumsily out of his underwear, and stroked rapidly as his eyes traced Killua’s angry, frustrated mouth all the way down to his goose-bumped flesh and the semi-hard flesh hoarding the hot blood from the rest of his body. Killu even had a stubborn cock. He decided to wash his armpits—he’d been sweating so much from getting angry and fighting his own body into submission—soaping himself up, moving down, down, down, until his hand was next to his fully-hard penis.

That was all it took for Illumi to come, the high of his orgasm quickly wrecked by the realization that Killua was about to make a huge mistake.

He was in the bathroom in a split second—thankfully the door was still off the hinges—ripped back the shower curtain and latched onto Killua’s slippery, wet wrists. “Fuck, fuck—let me go! Shit. I can’t take this anymore. It fucking _hurts_ , Illumi. Get off me, get out of here!” His voice echoed off the walls of the shower and the stream of water as it hammered onto his body, soap running down the drain and his straining muscles, making his dick twitch. Finally, he released a ragged, calmed breath. “Okay—okay. You can let me go. I’ll be alright.”

Heart pounding in his head, Illumi let go. Even though he’d just gotten off, the sight of Killua, fully nude, was as provocative as ever. Soap streaming down from his armpits, a slight shiver to his body from standing in ice-cold water for more than five minutes, white pubic hair having darkened from wetness. Eyes set deeply in his head, wearing an expression that cursed Illumi and the world and his own body.

Illumi didn’t know what to say to him, his throat smaller than the spit he swallowed as he released him and left the restroom, leaving the door wide open and going back to the monitor. Hopefully he hadn’t noticed that Illumi’s hand had been slicked with his own cum as he grabbed him—surely he hadn’t noticed, the stream of water had washed it away.

When Killua finally came out, he had glassy eyes, a towel slapped around his waist haphazardly, and the same erection still tenting the front of the fabric. His hair was dripping onto the floor, deep, dark grooves under his eyes carved by exhaustion. “I can’t take this anymore.”

“What do you propose?”

“I’m asking you.” Even his voice had lost its edge. “There has to be some kind of contingency plan. Code yellow or red or something—what do I need to do?”

“If you feel your will is too diminished, we may use restraints. Though, it’s not mandatory until day twelve.”

“Okay. Let’s try it.”

He dressed in loose shorts and no underwear with a baggy white shirt. Used to shackles, he didn’t blink when Illumi put his wrists in them and chained the ends together beneath the bed. The length was just short enough so that he couldn’t touch his own body. “These are Nen-infused. You won’t be able to break these like you have your boyhood chains.”

“I’m surprised you have these.”

“Why?” He tried not to look through the thin shirt fabric at Killua’s toned muscle and hard nipples.

“I certainly wouldn’t be walking out of here after this.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’ve been permitted to be free since you were twelve. It has nothing to do with our inability to restrain you.” Although Illumi hadn’t been made privy to that decision until _after_ he’d taken the Hunter Exam and brought Killua home—something of a bitterness that he still hadn’t gotten out of his mouth. It had seemed as though he brought him home as a rogue oppressor when he was merely ill-informed.

He tugged the chains as if trying to sense how much stronger they were. The look in his eyes changed to one of precociousness, thinking if he could really break them despite Illumi’s statement that he couldn’t. It was nice to see this expression replacing, even for a moment, his irritation and agony. “Even if I can’t break these, I could break my bed.”

Illumi blinked, watching his eyes flash with a sharpness, a confidence. “Of course. But you won’t be left alone just because you’re chained up. By the time the frame starts breaking, I will restrain you.”

“Think you’re fast enough?” Cocky.

“You could break the bed in one motion—but I could get to you before you could reach orgasm.”

That popped the balloon of comfort they had between them, Killua blushing furiously and twisting his eyes away from Illumi’s quickly. “Will I have to sleep like this?”

“That will be your decision. As I said, it’s not mandatory until the twelfth day.”

“What’s the twelfth day?”

“Better to take this a day at a time.”

They let the cartoons play between them for a while. Killua’s phone rang, caller ID identifying Gon’s name with a heart next to it. Illumi clicked his tongue and ran it tightly across his teeth, wishing he could break the phone in half. But Killua glanced over, sighed, and said, “Let it ring.”

“It’s for the best.” Switching the phone to vibrate, he set it aside.

“I’m not stupid, you know. I could smell your cum.” His voice was unexpectedly harsh and vulgar. “Don’t think this changes anything. I know you’re getting off on this. If it weren’t for Canary’s comfort, she would be here instead.”

Illumi’s ears felt hot but he nodded. They’d been getting along so well; getting his hand bitten over Gon again pissed him off. It was always over _Gon Freecs_ , ever since he left home and stumbled into that pest at the Hunter Exam who shared little else in common with him other than being the same age. If Illumi had known then what he did now, he would have killed Gon during the exam, Hisoka’s wishes be damned.

Deep breaths.

Killu was already volatile. His life would only get worse over the next couple of days. Illumi had to be the big brother. It was his job, his life’s work.


	2. Unloving Drug

Hair plastered to his forehead in a bubbling slick of sweat, chest rising and falling as a feverish, miserable whine escaped his dry lips. Every time he yanked his arm up quickly, his cuffs chaffed his slick, sweaty wrists. They had started to bleed in a few places, Illumi kneeling to disinfect and wrap them in bandages.

It was hard to imagine that Father had ever looked like this when he was sixteen, but it was possible he had reacted even worse. Father had told Illumi, in confidence, that Killua took his trainings far better than he had as a youth. Killua was strong, flexible, and stubbornly durable.

That same boy was haggard, hideously desperate, and stripped to nothing but animalistic needs. Having reduced Killua to this, Illumi could affirm the Reproductive Assurance procedure was a force of earth-shattering magnitude. In fact, he was beginning to question why Father had left Killua during such a crucial time. Either he had complete, unfailing trust in Illumi or his reasoning was unthinkable.

Illumi chose to believe the former.

“These are fun, right, Killu?” He twirled the iridescent drinking straw in his fingertips, watching it turn from blue to sea green before putting it in the ice-cold glass of water.

Even when he was looking directly at Illumi, it seemed as though he was gazing through him, as if the bags under his eyes gave him the ability to see through flesh and stone walls. His lips were chapped. “I’m not a child.”

He wasn’t happy about having to drink out of a straw and even less happy every time Illumi fed him. Even though Illumi had told him the restraints weren’t required until the twelfth day, he’d since reevaluated the situation and declared they were fully required at this stage, which eliminated Killua’s ability to drink or eat on his own. It had left him stubbornly refusing to eat and drink. “We don’t have an option, I can’t release you.”

“ _I know that._ I mean the straws. They’re embarrassing.”

Illumi looked at the package again, watching them change colors. What was so embarrassing about them? He’d asked Canary to purchase items from a list of things in town since she had been pacing around, feeling like she was neglecting the job that she had been assigned. “Canary picked them out.”

“On whose orders?”

“I wrote _fun straws_ —”

“That’s the part I’m talking about.”

Illumi tilted his head. “They’re fun.” He insisted again, wishing Killua would give the straws a chance to lighten his mood. He was a gloomy boy sometimes, choosing to focus on the negatives instead of the positives. But at least he was bucking and fighting instead of desperately tugging his chains again, chaffing his wrists and ankles in an attempt to rub up against his erection.

Killua sighed, drinking from the iridescent straw until his lips started to look a bit better. Because of how uncomfortable it was to urinate while his body was in a perpetual state of semi-arousal, he’d gone the entire previous day without drinking and had become so dehydrated that Illumi threatened to hook him up to an IV. With the amount of sweating he was doing he couldn’t afford not to drink for days on end.

When he finished the glass, he said, “You’re impossible.” His eyes twisted up suddenly as he closed them, his loose shorts rising in the front, cheeks going pink. A small moan escaped his throat.

This was what Illumi was afraid of: lately he’d been looking _stimulated_ when getting hard, even though he was unable to touch himself. The procedure included a period of time that was soon to begin in which Killua would not be permitted clothing or blankets at all. His sensitivity levels were so high that a particular movement of fabric against the nerve endings in the head of his penis could lead to orgasm.

But it would be demoralizing. The perfect timing would be needed—not even a moment too soon or too late.

It was auspicious that Killua hadn’t asked Canary to lay out the process for him. It wasn’t prohibited for him to know the entire process, start to finish, but it would have certainly made things more difficult for him to dread each step before it came along. He was smart and probably knew it was better to walk into an inevitability blind than to know and agonize. This was why Illumi had rarely shared the details of the planned trainings and tortures that Father handed down to him during Killu’s childhood. It wouldn’t have done him any good to know.

“Hey, Illumi,” he said softly, his head leaning back fully into the soft pillows that concealed the thickness of his neck, making him look younger. “Maybe I could try this again? Dad didn’t say I need to complete it on my first try. I might have a bit more immunity when I try it the second time, and I think we need a better plan. You and Canary can work in shifts next time—”

“What are you saying? You aren’t giving up.”

His legs spread further apart, as if it was an automatic process. Blue eyes turned toward him, a blush crept up his neck, the sound of rattling chains between them. “You want to touch me, right? The agony will be over for the both of us.”

Illumi’s fingers were dancing snakes again. He tried not to let Killua see, dipping his hands below his knees, hoping it was beneath Killua’s line of sight. “You don’t want to do this all over again. You’ve come too far. You’re only three days away from completing the process.” As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t say _the hard part is over_. It would be a lie.

“I can’t. It’s not three more days, it’s nearly seventy-two hours because I’m barely sleeping.”

“You aren’t this weak.”

“I know you want to touch me.”

He heaved a deep breath. Thankfully he was already bent over. “I’m not going to be the reason you fail.”

“Then let me—”

“I’m not going to let _you_ be the reason you fail either. This is why someone else is required to be with you at all times. When your will breaks or falters, someone else has to know what’s best for you.”

“I can’t do it.”

“You can. And more importantly: you will.”

That quieted him. He jerked his right arm roughly, the chain crying out his frustration to the corners of the room. Illumi wondered if he would try to break the frame of his bed once his frustrations got bad enough. He could have chained him to a wall in the dungeon but that would have sacrificed his comfort needlessly. If he broke the bed, they would just order a new bed. It was about time for his room to be remodeled anyway. Maybe it would make him feel more connected with his home to remodel his room again.

“I hate you.”

Killu didn’t mean that. He already knew Killu didn’t mean that.

But it made the next part easier.

He must have thought Illumi was going to angrily lay hands on him—even though Illumi had never struck him out of anger—because he winced at the sight of him hovering over his body. When Illumi grabbed the hem of his shorts instead, his eyes snapped back open. A strangled moan escaped him at being touched below the waist, now assuming that he’d worn Illumi down—seduced him into destroying the procedure. A moan so wanton just from the thought of Illumi touching him served as reassurance that this was the right decision. The sound of fabric choking as he tore it down the front roughly with bare hands and slid the fabric out from under his body, leaving his exposed erection to stand in the cold air.

It took Killu a moment to realize Illumi wasn’t going to touch him, and that he was exposed for seemingly no reason.

“ _What the fuck!_ ” He slammed his head back into the pillows, as much of a tantrum as he could muster.

The ripped pair of shorts dropped in a heap to the floor. “You are no longer permitted to have fabric near your genitals or in any location that could risk stimulation resulting in orgasm.”

“ _You can’t do this_ —I want to talk to Dad! Call Dad, right now!”

“This is part of the procedure.”

“I don’t believe you, I want to talk to Dad! Just because I said I hate you doesn’t mean you can rip my clothes off.”

Ah. There were tears in his eyes.

“If you don’t believe me, I’ll summon Canary to confirm it. She was instructed in this as well.” He pressed the button on his handheld to page her, Killua’s voice raising as he started screaming _no, no, no!_

“Don’t call her—shit!” He tried to kick up at Illumi, but he was too fast, taking a step back from the bed just far enough so he couldn’t be reached. “You’re a pervert. At least give me a blanket—”

“No fabrics are permitted to—”

Honestly, he hadn’t expected Killua to follow through on breaking his own bed. But the humiliation and arousal digging its way through his veins translated into an unrestrained burst of Nen, and this time when he whipped his arms up angrily, the Nen-infused chains ripped through the bedframe, shattering it as easily as slicing through pudding. It was a sight to see his power like this, rippling through his unclothed body so clumsily that the travelling of Nen was fully visible through his contracting muscles.

_He’s beautiful_ , Illumi thought has he launched himself onto Killua, pinning his arms and legs roughly down, very aware of the need to avoid touching his erection, even brushing it by accident could stimulate him.

Having his brother on top of his bare skin, physically restraining him with ease exacerbated his rage and shame, pushed more Nen through his body like the pull of a syringe, incoherent chorus of _no_ , _get off me_ , and _fuck you_ garbled together with the chains smacking the stone floor. Illumi could feel how much more powerful he’d gotten since they’d last clashed.

When Canary arrived promptly and ready for the worst, she rushed over to restrain his hands, which were currently taking chunks of flesh from Illumi’s shoulders as he could reach them.

Once he saw her, he realized what he was doing was tantamount to throwing a fit instead of being the righteous fight against his perverted brother his adrenaline had been telling him it was. His breath slowed, screwing his eyes shut so he didn’t have to see any pitying or judgmental stares. “I’m fine. Let me go.”

He could feel Killu’s pulse slowing and he nodded to Canary to let him go. She helped him stand up, Illumi holding his hands behind his back by the chains—he really looked like a prisoner. Stepping off the ruined mattress, the shattered glass of water and the iridescent straws lay at his bare feet along with the rest of the debris of headboard.

When he was a boy, Mother had chosen silken, floral bedsheets and ordered them on his bed against his wishes. Unlike Kallu, who always accepted Mother’s need to dress him up beautifully, Killu had retaliated with the complete destruction of his bed. Illumi had had to punish him, as well as choose his new bed model instead of allowing him the privilege of choice. But knowing what Killu had been wanting had weighed too heavily in the back of his mind as he flipped through the catalog. Ultimately, it had been easier to simply order what Killu had been wanting instead of making the decision himself.

“We’ll move him to my room,” Illumi said to her decisively, feeling the blood freely drip down his biceps from where Killua had torn him open. There was no protest to this order; Killua knew after this stunt they were past the point of asking his opinion or providing him with options.

“Bring the straws,” Killua said as he was led down the hallway naked, chains swinging, choking on his self-inflicted embarrassment. “They’re _so much fun_.”

 

Dreams sucker-punching him in the guts, he swept in and out of sleep fitfully. The spot in his temple collecting sweat was where Illumi wanted to insert a needle to make this all stop. An infusion of Nen just powerful enough to make him sleep would be all it would take. It was simple. Illumi could do it—would do it, if he weren’t expressly forbidden from doing so.

There had been a documented case in which external Nen reacted poorly with the R.A. drug: the Zoldyck in question became entirely infertile when a Nen user tried to alleviate the drug’s symptoms. This no-Nen rule was underlined and bolded in red. His hands felt just as tied as Killua’s. There was very little he could do except watch him suffer.

But there was one thing, debated hotly a few generations of Zoldyck as to whether or not it would ultimately decrease final output during collection. It was not expressly forbidden, so Illumi had been turning it over in his mind ever since Killua’s sleep had become nothing but fitful. When he awoke, again, for the forth time that hour, Illumi decided he had enough confidence in Killu’s natural potency to risk a reduction.

“Wait here.” He paged Canary.

She watched over him with pity, but he was too tired to protest her presence. She’d already seen him like this, it couldn’t get much worse.

Sweetly, she pressed a cold washcloth to his face, cleaning the gleam of sweat and replacing it with cold drips of water that fell down his temples. “How are you doing?” She asked, even though she knew the answer.

“Terrific,” he croaked. He’d been barking back and forth at Illumi, arguing and bargaining and scathing, half in earnest and half to distract himself from the agony.

Even when Illumi returned with a syringe, Canary stayed by his side.

“With consideration to your current stress level, I’ve decided to administer a muscle relaxant to help you sleep.” At least this relaxant was sanctioned and proven not to react badly to the drug. They had stronger stuff in their stores, but nothing else had been tested in combination to the drug. Illumi made a mental note to ask Father if he could become tribute for experimentation. Future Zoldyck heirs deserved a more advanced muscle relaxant.

Canary smiled, “I was hoping that’s why you called me.”

He nodded, not exactly pleased to be discussing how he made his decisions with her. But Killua had chosen her first, so they were stuck as co-caretakers until the end. “It was an option and I felt it appropriate.”

Illumi rolled him onto his side, swabbed his bare hip with alcohol, and stuck the needle just above his buttocks, the plunger pushing sweet relief into Killua’s sore, worn muscles. There was a mist of tears in his eyes at the idea that he would be able to sleep peacefully. That look was well worth the risk of marginally decreased production.

Canary pushed his bangs back from his forehead, an unnecessary bit of emotional support that Illumi already had covered. He’d brushed Killua’s hair, brushed his teeth, fed him, carried him to the restroom (after securely fastening his hands, of course,) and sponge-bathed him as much as Killua would allow—he’d _certainly_ have moved Killua’s bangs if she had already dismissed herself. But, he had to admit, she did care for him genuinely—more so than was appropriate for a butler. Falling for Killua was only human.

It wasn’t the first time she’d overstepped herself when it came to Killua. When she was young and foolhardy, she and Killua had run away and hidden on the property in a massive tree that had been hollowed out by some creature. Killua had been so upset, sobbing and telling her that he needed someone to get him away from here and he wanted to live with her. She’d probably had feelings for him back then, or maybe children’s brains could only suppress so much stupidity before they had to act out on it—but he’d convinced her that they’d run away and live out the rest of their days in some kind of punishment-free exile.

The hounds had caught them in less than twelve hours, before they even made it off the property. If highly-trustworthy butlers in their employ hadn’t come forward to vouch for her, she wouldn’t have survived that upheaval. Killu had also taken responsibility, grinding the toe of his shoe into the ground, saying he’d manipulated her into going. He may have thought he was lying in order to spare her, but he was unknowingly telling the truth. He’d spent most of his life unaware of his own charm.

“If I page you again, bring another vial. His immunity may not allow him the level of relaxation I’m anticipating, even with the dose I just gave him.”

She bowed and moved closer to the door, stopping as if she just thought of something. Illumi knew she’d planned it. “Oh, Master Killua, would you like me to pass a message to Gon? He’s been calling the front gate since he has been unable to contact you via cellphone.”

She had no business bringing _him_ up without running it by Illumi first. She’d been dismissed from his bedside, no longer the primary caretaker. Illumi was the overseer of this procedure, not her. They may have been co-caretakers, but the chain of command was still in place.

She did it on purpose.

Illumi turned his eyes on her, imposing his will with a whirl of viciousness in his eyes: _get out_. He would have verbally commanded her—but Killua would get angry at him again. She was lucky Killu was here and he couldn’t leave his bedside, or he would have exerted his full authority after such a blatant and willful insurgence.

But Killua didn’t say anything. Perhaps he hadn’t even heard her. Penis now flaccid, his face slackened, a slump of relief spreading over his entire body as the relaxant kicked in. Iron grip on the sheets loosened, the chains all slackened and pooled in loops like sleeping snakes. “Thank you, Illumi,” he muttered as he slipped into a well-earned state of unconsciousness.

Deep breath. Hold it.

He couldn’t discipline her right now. Killu was more important.

If Killu’s sleeping face hadn’t weighed his mood in a lighter direction, he wouldn’t have been able to remain civil. “Tell Gon that Killu is currently indisposed. If he would like to speak with someone, I will speak to him.”

“Very well.” She bowed again, her body language betraying her true feelings. Putting Gon through to Illumi would make Killua unhappy—they both knew that—but Illumi’s orders superseded Killua’s happiness.

 

On the thirteenth day, the worst symptoms finally arrived, the peak of the drug, and the complete dissolution of Killua’s will. All of a sudden, Killua stopped showing any defiant, determined looks; something had reached into his body and flipped a switch. It no longer looked like frustration, exhaustion, or bargaining. Rather: all hope had been extinguished. He didn’t just think he couldn’t withstand, he no longer wanted to withstand.

It was everything Illumi had been dreading.

As expected, not even the muscle relaxant was working anymore, although the gallon of concrete in the pit full of pity in his stomach tried to administer it again. Over and over, even though it was daylight, he tried to give him the relaxant, but it sank into the endlessly rigid muscle and never reemerged to bring relief. Nothing made him stop clenching his teeth, flipping his body, or biting his straws in half.

When Canary brought the fifth vial, she gave Illumi a pitying look; it was time to stop giving them all false hope. It wouldn’t work at this stage. Nothing would. The only thing that lay before them was the sweet release of failure or the painful road to success.

And it was, unmistakably, painful for them both.

And even worse still, Killu was in _his_ bed. What had seemed like a good idea before now left him wishing he’d taken him to the dungeons, to Milluki’s room, to Kalluto’s room— _anywhere_ but Illumi’s own bed, head on Illumi’s pillow: the one he laid on every night that caught the dreams he had of pinning Killu right where he currently lay, biting deeply into his neck, sweating on his skin, and fucking him hard. Sometimes he was restrained, sometimes he had needles in his skin. Illumi’s mind had misbehaved for so long that reality was beginning to mock him, parroting his dreams in the one situation where he absolutely couldn’t act out his desires.

“ _Fuck me_ —Illumi, please just fuck me.”

He was an entirely different person, eyes glazed over and dilated in the same kind of contraction that seized his entire body. Since that moment when the switch flipped, reasoning with him was hopeless. But Illumi still tried—mostly to distract himself from the stirring in his own body. “That won’t do, Killu. Don’t be vulgar.”

“Please.” His consciousness swam on the surface of his eyes just like it used to when under Illumi’s control. While it felt nostalgic to see him like this, he didn’t like it. He didn’t like seeing Killua controlled and hypnotized by anything or anyone other than him. The drug didn’t love him. Stripping someone’s personality bare without loving them was a horrific thing. “Please, please, please, _please_.”

Illumi crossed his legs, uncrossed them. Pushed back his cuticles with his thumb nails. Swallowed hard and focused on the abstract painting above his bed he liked to get lost in sometimes, following red lines from an invented start to an invented finish, then doing the same with the blue.

A sudden jerking of chains brought him back to harsh, provocative reality. Killu thrusting his hips off the bed, falling back down and whining, “You can do anything to me—come inside me! I need to feel it, I need it so badly.” The very idea sent another moan tumbling out of his mouth. His own offers birthed images that were making his situation worse.

It was the manipulator in him that wanted to break him out of this foreign hypnosis, but the practical side of him knew that the R.A. drug couldn’t be overridden. “Don’t you want to leave? Only a little less than twenty-four hours left. You’re on the final stretch.”

“I’ll stay with you forever if you’ll just touch me.”

He stayed quiet. Words would only betray him right now.

“Don’t you want me to stay?”

_Stay quiet. Don’t think about reaching over—how easily he’d orgasm—and then he’d realize for what he sold his freedom for._ He’d belong to Illumi. He would have to undergo the procedure again, but he would already belong to Illumi. Then he’d have nothing left to offer and would succeed the second time—

No. No. No. No. No. He couldn’t. Father would be incredibly disappointed and wouldn’t force Killu to uphold that promise anyway. A promise made under extreme psychological strain and physical desperation—a bargain to god during a torture so harsh it left him a shell of himself.

No. He wouldn’t fall to temptation. But he couldn’t sit here and listen to this, either.

He paged Canary, walking briskly past her and out of the room as soon as she arrived in the doorway, Killua still yelling for him. Canary wouldn’t break from his bargaining, which was more than Illumi could say for himself. How shameful for him to even consider giving in, even for a moment.

Being outside of his room helped. The mixture of his room and the smell of Killua’s sweat made his head go fuzzy. Everything in the world was in that room and he couldn’t have it. It was fake, like a mirage while dying of dehydration in an arid desert. This version of Killu, the one who shamelessly wanted Illumi to fuck him, was a dream, a fake, a doppelganger of the real version. Hypnotized by an unloving drug.

It was at least ten degrees cooler out in the hallway, and he tried not to think about it being from Killua’s body heat. Bringing his shoulder up to his forehead, he wiped the sweat away. It took a lot to make him sweat; he felt pathetic, hiding just outside the door of his own bedroom so the begging didn’t break him. He was just as affected by Killua as Killua was by the drug. Although Illumi had had much more time and exposure to build an immunity, he’d failed. Over and over again, Killua affected him in ways he shouldn’t have been able to.

A few butlers dipped their postures in a slight bow as they passed him in the hall, all on their way to clean, cook, or do whatever they could to keep the Zoldyck house running smoothly. He felt stupid and self-conscious, a tall, muscular man who was built for fighting, bent over trying to catch his breath and will away his thoughts of Killu tied to his bed.

“Have the remnants of Killua’s bed been picked up yet?” he asked a passing butler.

“No, Sir. Not yet.”

“I’ll do it. Just pick up the trash outside of his room when I’m finished.”

“Yes, Sir.”

It gave him temporary purpose that wasn’t watching or listening to Killua squirm. Picking up the debris, lifting the frayed mattress up and out of the room, putting the sheets into the laundry. Busywork. When his mind thought of unpleasant things, he liked to get lost in menial tasks, abstract paintings, and assassinations. When his mind had guidelines to follow, a path to walk, he felt more at ease. Decisions without guidelines were dizzying, too many factors to consider, too many mistakes to make. Sometimes picking up piece after piece of someone else’s mess made him feel good about himself, calmed his raging thoughts.

He picked up the remaining tatters of shorts that he’d torn, the inner lining stiff and slightly stained. The comforting paths in his mind hit a dead end. It dawned on him that he would have to get it out of his system before he went back to his bedroom.

They smelled sweetly of Killu’s sweat; he couldn’t help but to inhale them, unbuttoning his pants and stroking himself in time with his own breathing—like a mantra, like he was breathing in the scent of Killua beneath him on his bed. He’d be handcuffed, begging, and Illumi would acquiesce, causing grateful tears to well up. His tongue came out on its own, wishing it were pressed to Killu’s attentive erection instead of stiff cloth. The zipper and metal accessories on his pants clinked with every rough stroke of his hand, he imagined the clinking of Killua’s chains as he squirmed beneath him. Shoving into him, over and over, Killu’s voice saying, ‘ _Come inside me, I need it!_ ’

As he came, he brought the tattered cloth down to his penis and used it as a rag. When all of this was over, he’d be just as relieved as Killua. The loss of control that came with persistent, irritating bouts of arousal was frustrating. He had enough trouble with these feelings when there was no stimulus to shock his libido to life over and over and over—he was supposed to be doing a job, not hiding out, doing butler work, and masturbating.

Dropping the fully-used tatters into the trash, he finished picking up the large pieces and left the smaller detailing for the butlers. He had to get back. He had to get a grip on himself. Only one more day.

Arriving back outside of his bedroom, Milluki was standing in the doorway. He’d washed his hands of the entire thing, even though Illumi had tried to convince him, in the beginning, that it was his duty as an older brother to help out. He’d shrugged and said the entire affair grossed him out, there was no extra payment involved, and Killua hated him anyway—to which Illumi had protested, _of course, no one here_ hates _anyone_. They are a family. You can’t hate your family.

“No way!” Carried down the hallway, even to where Illumi was standing. Something felt weird with the way he said it—shaky and with a lilt of humiliation, unlike his normally stubborn, petulant syncopation.

Illumi concealed his presence—something he was still the best at doing among all of his brothers—and came up behind Milluki, quiet as the dead of night.

Killua’s voice came: “Come on, Millu— _please_? It’ll take two seconds. Less than two seconds.”

“I’m not _touching you_ , that’s disgusting!”

Killua’s deeper voice saying ‘Millu’ was something Illumi had never expected to hear. He hadn’t heard that nickname from Killua’s mouth since he was ten and they had a major fight where Milluki called him ‘spoiled’ and ‘the golden son.’ Their resentment for each other had taken longer to dissolve than Illumi had thought it would. But maybe seeing Killua in this state was exactly what he needed to help him empathize instead of envy Killua’s position.

He could see Killua from the doorway, looking at Milluki through his legs, his erection stiff—Milluki’s face half-turned, trying not to look at his little brother’s exposed ass and curled toes. But he seemed rooted to the spot, unable to storm away as he usually would when Killua made stupid demands of him.

“I’ll pay you! Yeah— _if you just_ —it’ll be over in a second. You can do it however you want. You can wear a glove, and I’ll pay you.” The excited clink of his chains, like a hound having reached the end of its length just before reaching some treat, sent another wave of pleasure through Illumi’s body, even though he should have been emptied out by now.

“How much?”

“Two-billion Jenny.”

“To jack off my own brother? Don’t lowball me.”

“Eight-billion?” He heaved a breath, “Nine—no, _ten_! I’ll give you whatever you want. Twenty billion!”

“You don’t have that kind of dough. You’ll say anything right now.”

“I’m good for it! I can get it, I’ll just take a few jobs. Dad will give me a higher cut if I haggle with him.”

“Bullshit. As soon as your dick isn’t hard anymore you’ll go back to your asshole self and I won’t see a single Jenny.”

“You have my word, Millu— _please_.”

Milluki touched the bottom of his chin, no doubt considering what he could afford with twenty-billion. “Hmm.”

As soon as he took a step forward into the room, Illumi’s hand out from the shadows of his hidden presence, placing it on Milluki’s shoulder. The man jumped, a bead of sweat fleeing down his temple. “Oh—h-hey Illu. I uh, was just watching Killu while Canary got him lunch. Yeah. He suddenly demanded a meal, I happened to be walking by—”

So that’s what had happened. Killua discovered Canary was unshakable and decided to try to sink his teeth into Milluki. Of course, Canary wasn’t at fault. A Zoldyck should have been more than suitable to cover for her while she made him a meal. He felt the darkness and disappointment creeping over his own face. “You were going to turn him down, right?”

“Of course! Don’t be ridiculous. Me, touch Killu? Gross. Not that, _if you_ —I mean, come on, you know I wouldn’t compromise this. Papa would skin me alive.” Putting his palms up, he gave a crooked, thin smile, more sweat gathering on his nose. “I was just seeing how far he’d go. To test his desperation so I could…report it. To Canary or you.”

“Fatass!”

“Shut it, Killu! _You’re gross_ —I mean, I can’t help you. I’m sorry. I have to get back to my room now. Really important election work, you know?” His face hot and red, he stomped away, wiping his sleeve across his forehead. He’d try desperately the rest of the night to get that image of Killua—and the imaginings of what he’d almost done to Killua—out of his head. That was almost punishment enough for nearly giving in.

“Illu, you’re back~” He smiled as though nothing were amiss, face a sweaty mess that matched Milluki’s. “I missed you. I’d much rather have you watch me than Canary or Milluki.”

He took his seat back next to Killua, the words biting him worse than they had before because Killu used to say those things to him when he was younger and mean them genuinely, not to earn his cooperation. He hadn’t said ‘Illu’ in just as long as he’d said ‘Millu.’

Canary came back with lunch, and unsurprisingly, Killua turned away from it. He hadn’t eaten in a while, his body too preoccupied by more pressing matters than to feel hunger. Lunch was a tactic, just like telling Illumi he missed him. The soup sat on the nightstand, rapidly cooling and going to waste. Canary’s mouth ticked down, feeling as though she’d been manipulated.

“He doesn’t mean anything he does right now. You made the right call to get him lunch if he asked for it.”

“Thank you, Master Illumi.”

“You may go now. I’ll take it from here.”

“Yes, Sir.” She gave one last look at Killua, obviously never having been tricked by him before. It settled poorly on her stomach. Bowing, she dismissed herself.

As soon as she left, he pounced again, wasting absolutely no time on his next plot to fulfill his throbbing, immediate needs. The forced, sycophant smile on his lips made him less attractive. “Illu, will you rub my feet? I think it will calm me down. I’d ask for a shoulder rub, but that would be a little difficult.”

Killua’s opinion of him was so low he thought inviting him to rub his feet would break him down. Or maybe he was just desperate, trying to get Illumi to touch him at all was a positive step in the direction his delirious brain wanted to go.

But, if it would help even a bit, Illumi would do it.

Perching himself at the end of the bed, it didn’t take long for Killua to swing his feet into Illumi’s lap. “Oh, come on—you can barely reach from that distance. I can’t even do anything to you, you don’t have to be _afraid of me_.”

Illumi sighed, scooting closer. Both of them acutely aware that Illumi could reach up and get him off from this proximity. But it wasn’t going to happen, so it was fine.

In the past, when he’d treated Killua’s legs, feet, and back after harsh training sessions, he’d used acupuncture and hot stones in addition to precise deep-tissue massage. He rarely pressed his thumbs into the sole of Killua’s foot with no other precedent than to satisfy him, watching his calves flex in response.

Killua’s watchful blue eyes slipped closed for a moment; contrary to his plans to use the foot rub as bait for more, it was actually serving to relax him. A hot breath escaped through his nose as if he’d forgotten to breathe since Illumi started.

Truthfully, Illumi prided himself on his ability to give massages. Ever since he was twelve, Mother had called him in to massage her on holidays, lazy Sundays, and when she woke up stiff from a nap, sometimes calling him in to massage Father after he received strain or injury on a job. Father refused outright for a while, Mother nagging him, insisting that Illu did a better job than any of the butlers. Once he finally let Illumi try, he realized Illumi’s fingers had the power to dig in through thick neck muscle and he knew the locations of pressure points and how joints worked intimately. Now when Mother summoned him on behalf of Father, he allowed it without complaint. Grandfather even began allowing it. He was incredibly useful, his blood soaring weightless through him whenever he received a request for a massage.

He felt useful now. This was something small he could do in this situation where he was mostly powerless to help. Parting his toes, digging his fingers in the valleys between, watching the goosebumps break out on Killua’s legs. “You need your nails trimmed,” he said lowly, not even talking to Killu specifically.

When a moan came from his hand-muffled mouth, Illumi dropped his foot. If it was stimulating him too much, it could be risky. He expected Killua to protest the loss, but he was wearing a sly smile that tugged his wet eyes into sharp weapons. “My turn?” And then he laid his feet on Illumi’s lap, groping and pushing on the persistent erection that defiantly rose from the grave. Bitterly, he thought how pointless it had been that he’d dismissed himself and masturbated into Killua’s shorts. If his body was still going to behave like this, _what was the point_?

“Killu, stop.”

“I’d unbutton your pants for you, but I’m a little tied up right now. Unbutton them and I’ll take care of you.”

“I’m not going to touch you back.”

“We can talk about that after, right?”

“Killu.”

“Come on, just unbutton them. If you take yourself out a bit, I’ll do the rest.”

“No.” It was weak. They both knew it was weak.

“You’ve got a perfect view from where you’re sitting. I’ll let you look, it will take no time at all.”

If he let his eyes linger in the curve of Killua’s ass for too long, he didn’t want to know how far he’d fall from grace and self-respect. Everything up until this point would be for nothing if he allowed this to push him over the edge. But Killu was right. It wouldn’t take him long and then he could resume watching over him with a modicum of self-control returned to his stable. It would be just like masturbating but with Killua in the room. It had only been thirty minutes since he’d gotten off in Killua’s bedroom, but he unbuttoned his pants, taking out his erection and inhaling sharply as Killua placed the cold sole of his foot on it.

“You should have told me your feet were cold, I would have brought you socks—”

“Shh.” He placed one foot on the inside of Illumi’s thigh, kicking his legs open wider. “Don’t talk right now, unless you want to tell me how good I am.”

_Where did he learn to talk like that?_

The chill did nothing to stop the rush of arousal settling into his stomach at the sight of Killu maneuvering his foot on the underside of his dick, pushing it clumsily into Illumi’s stomach, accidentally pulling him further out of his pants exposing his balls to the cold air of the room.

If he closed his eyes, the weak sensation would do nothing for him, but Killu was trying so hard, his calves flexing all of his lean muscle into a smooth sculpture-like perfection, the movement of his body and legs as he shifted caused his own erection to wave and twitch with the effort. The sight of him was doing everything to bring him closer. It was so much better than orgasming into a ripped pair of shorts.

He pressed the head of his erection into the arch of Killu’s pale foot, noticing how similar in shape it was to his own foot and their mother’s. Zoldycks always had perfect arches—just one instance of genetically-crafted, advantageous features that made them predisposed to physical superiority. Father having chose Mother was but another wise decision to sculpt an even better generation of Zoldycks. Their mother was so beautiful and dainty—Killu had been selected and created from the cream of the crop for generations—perfect, perfect, _perfect_.

Just when he was getting close, the slick of precum on the ball of Killua’s foot, it was suddenly pulled away. Illumi could hear his own panting—looking down at his lap with his mouth hanging open caused a strand of drool to drip from his bottom lip and land in his tightly-trimmed pubic hair. “Killu? Are you—what’s wrong?”

But when he looked up, he could see exactly what was happening. One of his legs was hiked as high up as he could flex, the other flat on the bed, the wide parting exposing his pink asshole with every bit of intentionality as he could manage with his hands chained down. A trap. A bait and switch—but for something better than a clumsy footjob. “Illu, fuck me.”

“No.”

“You don’t have to touch my penis—just put it in. Please.”

“That would be more than enough to stimulate you to orgasm—”

“ _Fucking hell_ —I’m begging you, you know you want it, Illu—”

Illumi closed his eyes, wiping the spit from his lips and forcing the image of Killua’s vulnerable ass to disappear from his mind’s eye. He’d log it away for later, when he was alone and not on the edge of compromising an assignment, given to him by Father, that was of the highest importance for the good of the family—no, for _future Zoldyck generations_. For Killu’s own progeny. Little white-haired, blue-eyed offspring with perfect arches and a rebellious look in their eyes that challenged his decisions up until the moment when they relented, finally realizing it was for their own good. Powerful children that would take the estate to the next level. No, Illumi couldn’t be the one to interfere and destroy that. This was the most vital duty Illumi had been given since he’d trained Killua.

He stood just close enough to reach Killua’s foot, dragging it forcibly back down with his left hand, pressing the head to the back of Killua’s toes and quickly stroking himself to completion, looking down at Killua’s indignant, humiliated expression that changed to horror when he realized cum was now in between in toes, sliding down the top of his foot.

Quickly followed by anger that his plan failed.

“Dammit! Fuck!”

“Language, Killu.”

“Get it off!” It was the first Killua-like thing he’d said since the switch flipped. “It feels so disgusting, it’s _warm_ —ugh—clean it off! I can’t believe I let you do that.”

He was thankful to be yelled at again. It was better than hollow begging, manipulation—those weren’t Killu. This was Killu. “You deserve it for trying to trap me.”

“If you weren’t such a pervert you wouldn’t have walked into it. Clean it off!”

“I could call Canary to do it, if you’d like?”

“Very funny. You could also leave your junk hanging out of your pants. I’m sure she’d love to see her employer’s dick flopping around.”

Illumi tucked himself back into his pants, smiling at Killua still holding his foot in the air so daintily, trying not to get the cum all over the bedsheet. How kind of him. “Too late for that.”

His face looked like he’d been sucker-punched. “Fuck you. God, I can’t wait to leave and never come back.”

It was mostly out of revenge, but also out of a post-orgasm impulse when he took hold of Killua’s foot again, licking across the top to catch what was still driveling slowly down towards his ankle. It wasn’t an unpleasant taste, but certainly wasn’t good either. Maybe he would do some research and alter his diet just in case circumstances came to pass in which Killu would taste it. Better yet, if he could guarantee him, after rigorous testing, that it wouldn’t taste bad, it may increase his chances of such a circumstance occurring.

The screams that followed were predictable— _stop_ , _no_ , _disgusting pervert!_ And he ripped his foot out of Illumi’s hand, finally placing it back down on the bed. “Never touch my feet again! Now I know what you always had running through your mind with those little spa days.”

Retrieving the cloth napkin he’d been using to wipe Killua’s mouth during meals, he took the foot back (after some further distrustful resistance) and cleaned it properly. They settled into an uncomfortable silence, both thinking about what had just transpired. Or at least, that was what Illumi was thinking about. Killua’s mind could be going to mud again without shock to serve as a distraction.

Finally, after some time, Illumi said, “You’re going to make it to the end, you know.”

“If you didn’t break after that plan, there’s no more hope for you. Canary didn’t even break a sweat, you thoroughly scared Milluki…my only other hope would be if Mom came in here. She’d fall for the _I’ll stay home_ plea.”

“Noted. I won’t let Mother come in here.”

He groaned, closing his eyes and throwing his head further back into the pillows. “I can’t believe I’d ask my own mother to jack me off, but I really would.”

His brain batted around a lot of responses, reasons why it wouldn’t be shameful, why he could always rely on his family to be there for him, even with something of this nature. But seeing his exhaustion, the slump in his shoulders, he wasn’t ready to shake his worldview. Just cushion it. “It’s the drug, you know.”

At that, he opened his eyes again. “Yeah. Still feels gross.”

“I think you made it through the hardest part.”

“Maybe. Except being awake all night is going to be agony. My body feels like it’s been on fire for days.”

“I don’t think we’re going to get any more usage out of the relaxant.”

“Figured.”

“I suppose you still aren’t hungry?”

“Not unless you’ll send Mom in here to watch me.”

“We’ll skip dinner then.”

“You haven’t been eating either.” He said, eyes blinking his realization into existence. He’d been so consumed about his own predicament, just like with Canary, he’d missed obvious facts like this.

“A few times when you slept.”

“Illumi?”

“Mm?”

“I don’t hate you. I didn’t mean it.”

Illumi swallowed the urge to say he knew that because family doesn’t hate family. Not truly. It was impossible. Instead, he got up, dimmed the light in the room, and opened the curtains for the massive bay window that took up a large potion of one of his bedroom walls. The sun had just freshly set, the dark sky dashed with a deep pink that lit the silk cushions in the alcove. Being so high up on the mountain, the stars were visible even this early in the evening. The entire window was filled with nothing but night sky, the light reaching over to his bed where Killua lay looking out at the view.

“I forgot how much I used to sit there looking down at the town, past the gates.” Killua said, remembering the times he sat with his books, games, and snacks spread out around him on the cushions of the nook, looking out from the great height of their home. Illumi had to have the cushions and pillows replaced over and over from the chocolate stains and chip grease, but it had been worth it to have Killua hanging out happily in his room.

“You were meant to look up at the sky.” Illumi said quietly, his own response pulling at a strange place in his stomach. If he’d have known the time Killua spent in his bedroom would facilitate his eventual desire to leave, maybe he would have made him go back to his own room. Maybe.

This time, he sat on the pillow next to Killua’s head, putting a hand on his forehead and brushing away his sweaty bangs. It felt the same as it had when Killua was young and would stubbornly go days without bathing. He wanted to carry him, kicking and screaming, to the bathtub and wash his hair like old times, lathering it up with sweet-smelling conditioner. Killu never knew it, but Illumi became invested in the storylines that played out between Killu’s toys on the surface of the water and sides of the tub. The train killed the dinosaur. The action hero tortured the duck so it would get stronger. Wet lips parroting the sound of blood spurting.

Then he would towel off Killua’s hair and blow-dry it on low heat, warming the back of Killua’s neck up just enough to make him sigh in happiness. He’d put Killua to bed, combing through his hair with his fingers in hopes that it wouldn’t crimp and flatten in his sleep. He loved how Killua’s hair felt when it was clean: weightless, like air made manifest.

“Then I’d sing to you.”

“What?”

“Do you want me to sing to you?”

“I’m not a kid anymore.”

“I know, Killu,” he whispered, his hair falling over Killu’s bare shoulders and the pillow his head lay on. His jaw had squared a bit, his face less slender. Blue eyes more proportionate with is face but just as striking. Really looking at him like this, he realized he would have to come to terms with Killu getting older at some point.

“Can’t you just hypnotize me to sleep?” He avoided Illumi’s eyes. He’d never asked to be hypnotized before.

It wouldn’t be easy without Illumi’s Nen, if it even worked at all. So much time away from home—Killua wasn’t as responsive to the natural, non-Nen conditioning Illumi had spent so much time laying down. If he were ten again, Illumi could put him to sleep in an instant.

But it wouldn’t help to tell him the truth, to blame him for being stupidly tempted by the outside world, letting Illumi’s life work slowly rot inside him. Not now.

“I’ll try,” he smiled a placebo grin, even though his guts were in a shredder.

As he started one of his old favorite songs, he wondered if he was even good at singing. He’d never sang in front of anyone but his brothers, who were too young to know if he was an objectively ‘good’ singer. They liked it because it was soothing, they said. Did that mean for it to be soothing, it was good?

It didn’t matter. He combed his fingers through Killua’s greasy hair, his pitch raising and lowering as he ached to wash it. His roots were strong and healthy, hair so thick that a few strands were left in the scoops between his fingers. The song told about a land where the people were immortal and would willingly throw themselves off cliffsides just for fun. They knew what it was like to walk on the ocean floor, wrestle sharks, and crawl into the stomach of a whale. They collected bones from each other, knowing they would grow back the next day.

It may have been a bad idea to sing this to him as a boy. Just like letting him sit at the window, it may have planted ideas in his head, made him more reckless, let him dream about getting close to mortal danger when he should have been avoiding it at all costs. Illumi hadn’t asked Father if Killua should sit at his window or if he could sing the song of the immortals to him at night. This was what happened when he made decisions on his own. When Killu made him leave the comfortable paths in his mind.

Killua’s breathing shallowed; the muscles in his neck relaxed slightly as he slipped into a light sleep. For this reason alone, Illumi was thankful for this song and the familiar moonlight pouring in through the windows, touching his face in the same way as when he’d fall asleep in the alcove as a boy. If it would help, Illumi would touch his hair and sing to him all night, every song he knew. Old ones, new ones, none of them sanctioned by Father.


	3. Blood Runs South

It was a fitful night, but the songs kept his heartrate as low as could be expected. Fevers ravaged him and broke over and over—Killu hadn’t been sick since he was a boy; his body not used to this kind of upheaval. He tried to hold his nauseous stomach, but the chains stopped him. Illumi rubbed gentle circles into his stomach, but it only made his erection ache worse.

His hands became claws and tore apart Illumi’s sheets and the surface of his mattress with long, dragging sweeps. He didn’t speak—maybe he’d lost the ability to, hundreds of moans escaping him instead as the hours ticked by slowly. Illumi sang over the moans, hoping that drowning them out would be to bury the aches that caused them.

Canary brought in the empty collection vials and equipment for the intravenous drip, hovering near Killua’s bedside until she realized he was too incapacitated to speak to her. Perhaps she was hoping to ask if he would like for her to spare him the final humiliation of having his older brother collect the samples. Illumi didn’t acknowledge her as she left the room.

The light of the rising sun came in through the bay window, casting Killua’s body in wavy patches of spotlight. When he opened his eyes, chains stopping his hand that had come up to shield his face from the sun, he smiled in pure relief. He made it to sunrise. They were over the mountain, the rest of the journey a downward slide.

“Illumi?” His voice was scratched to pieces. “Sunrise. Unchain me.”

“You’ll need an intravenous drip to assure you don’t dehydrate.” He said, inserting the needle easily into Killua’s left hand and securing it. “The first few times you’ll remained chained. Can’t risk your eagerness compromising the collection process.” He slid a black latex glove on his left hand and used it to pick up a vial labeled #1.

He didn’t argue, lifting his hips with every ounce of strength he had left. “Hurry, please.”

His refractory period would be minimal. Illumi grabbed the second and third vials just in case, laying them down on unshredded portions of the bed where Killua couldn’t kick them. “Hold as still as you can. Don’t want to spill anything.” But even as he said that, he knew Killua wouldn’t have any semblance of control, so he climbed onto the bed and straddled Killua’s hips backwards, making sure to pin him down to the bed with his weight.

Angling the mouth of the vial on the tip of his penis, he quickly grabbed him like he was a plucking a snake from the ground, expecting the strangled cry that slapped around the corners of his room. He hadn’t heard Killua cry out like that in so long his own dick stirred instantly. Killua’s legs kicked the bed involuntarily as if he were throwing a tantrum in a store, the semen gushing out and pooling into the bottom of the large vial, filling it, the heat of it warming Illumi’s fingers through the glass and gloves.

Removing his hands quickly, hearing Killua panting behind him, he twisted on the seal and set it on the cart. By the time he turned back, Killua was fully hard again. Amazing. The R.A. drug was the most magnificent substance Illumi had encountered.

Again, he repeated the process, barely touching Killua before his body dunked him back into an orgasm that filled another vial. Hip bones slamming up against Illumi’s thighs, trying and failing to thrust off the bed, humping the air.

After the third vial, he choked out, “S-stop, Illumi, please.”

Illumi turned to see tears spilling from his crystal blue eyes, chest rising and falling with gasps as it had when he’d made Killua run ten kilometers for the very first time. Eyelashes wet and cheeks drunkenly red, he coughed miserably. The sound of the chains shivering as his body shook from overstimulation. “Ah. I apologize,” Illumi muttered, lifting himself from the bed and walked the third warm vial to the cart, securing it.

Thankfully, Canary had brought a new pitcher of ice water in on the bottom of the cart; he let Killua drink, watching the entire glass disappear through the fun straw. Just because Killua’s refractory period was so short and he wasn’t in danger of dehydration didn’t mean it wasn’t unnerving and unpleasant to orgasm so many times in a row. “Let me know when you’re ready again.”

“How many times?” He eyed the vials with hazy eyes as if trying to count the endless stacks of glass containers that Canary had brought in.

“At least ten, but ideally as many as you can produce. Don’t want to risk ever having to do this again.”

“How many was that?”

He wasn’t even aware. His head must have been thrumming so badly he couldn’t even count.

“Three.”

He heaved a shaky sigh. “When can you unchain me?”

To be honest, Illumi didn’t know. The manual hadn’t included that information. It was up to his own judgment as to when Killua seemed clear-headed enough not to stroke himself to completion with such abandon as to waste it out of a vial. “I’ll unchain you, but you can’t touch yourself.”

A small battle raged in his eyes for only a moment before he said, “Okay.” Desperate to have the chains off after four days of being restrained. Illumi pulled the cart closer to the head of the bed, plucked out three more vials, and laid them on the pillow before slowly unchaining Killua, watching with sharpened instincts to predict any rebellious movement towards masturbation.

Killua whimpered slightly as he stretched his arms in all of the ways he hadn’t been able to. Then he clasped his hands together in front of him, trying to resist the urges still coursing through them.

“Sit up,” Illumi pushed his back a bit as he settled in behind him and, being sure not to tangle or catch his fluid line, lifted him up and onto his lap with minimal resistance. His naked body startled when he felt Illumi’s erection on his butt, but he didn’t say anything. “Wrap your arms around my neck, keep them there.” Killu was obedient, bringing his arms up and clasping them behind Illumi’s head, burying them in long, thick hair. “If you move them, I’ll have to chain you back up again.”

“It’s sensitive.” Killua said into his ear, resting the crown of his head in the hollow of his shoulder, closing his eyes as he leaned back with all of his body weight.

A chance to show his _compassion_ : he brought his fingertips up and down Killua’s thighs, wedging them further apart gently until the muscles below his legs were relaxed. Slowly, Illumi reached for the vial with his gloved hand, naked fingertips making the gentle transition from leg to erection. Lining the vial up with the head of his penis, he tried to be as gentle as possible, using only his fingers from base to tip, not grabbing or stroking. If Killua had to go through at least seven more, he would be sore. No sense in making it needlessly worse with rushing. They didn’t have a time limit.

Killua whimpered—he had to hold himself back from wanting to stroke him harder, make him yelp and moan louder. His voice was more beautiful than Illumi’s could ever be. He wanted to hear Killu sing.

A few more feathery trips up and down his erection caused his fourth orgasm, filling another deep vial. His hands were sweaty on the back of Illumi’s neck, catching stray hairs and pulling them uncomfortably between his fingers. His back was sweaty too, sticking to the front of Illumi’s shirt and pants. Shallow panting and a pounding heart assailed Illumi’s chest.

Letting him recover, he slowly screwed the seal on, setting it on the cart and admiring it next to the other three. He’d never seen so much semen in one place before. It all belonged to Killu, which made his own erection ache against Killua’s weight on his lap.

This wasn’t good. It was as though he’d also been taking the R.A. drug—he’d never gotten so many consecutive erections before, especially after already having gotten off twice. In fact, when Killua wasn’t around, he rarely became aroused. He wasn’t a particularly carnal man, especially not compared to other men his own age, who he noticed spent quite a bit of time and effort trying to pick up sexual partners at bars and purchasing pornography.

If this kept up, he’d touch Killua too hard, his own greedy body turning him into little more than an unskilled groper. “Killu.” He shifted up and into a kneel, Killua’s panting form still leaning fully against him, and unbuttoned his pants. “I have to—quickly—”

No words of disgust came even as Illumi’s erection touched his bare back. It was as if he could hear the hum of static in Killua’s brain, his eyes closed and his body alight with hormones. “Do you want me to touch you too?” He murmured, almost as though he were talking in his sleep. A drunken chuckle escaped him. “With my hand this time.”

And without waiting for permission, as if Illumi’s lack of response said everything, his butt shifted to sit on Illumi’s thigh and his hand dripped down like water, reaching over and grabbing Illumi’s dick awkwardly, doing his best to stroke him like he’d desperately wanted to do to himself while his hands had been chained down. Illumi didn’t mind being his surrogate.

It was a fortunate thing that Killua’s eyes were on his own hand because it was then that Canary appeared in the doorway. She’d probably come around again to see if Killua was awake—attempt once more to offer for anyone but Illumi to be the one to collect his samples. But now her eyes drank in the sight of Killua on his lap, willingly giving Illumi a handjob, posture relaxed and not at all coerced or forced.

Illumi made eye contact with her before she walked away.

Even though he’d grown accustomed to the sight of Killua’s naked body in front of him, the intimacy of the situation was not lost on him. Killu, entirely naked, sitting on his lap, his side pressed to the front of his chest, head resting on his collarbone. Whiffs of hot breath barely reaching the head of Illumi’s dick as the shaky hand slid up and down for the first time since he’d been chained up. Moments after regaining full range of movement and this was how he was using it, his own erection straining for attention. If Illumi weren’t certain he’d fumble the collection process, he’d reach over and touch Killua simultaneously.

It didn’t take him long to come—Illumi buried his nose in his hair, deeply inhaling the unwashed scent as his cum dripped down Killua’s hand. He barely had a moment to recover before Killua slid back into place on his lap, not giving him time to redo his pants or put himself away before grabbing Illumi’s hand and replacing it back on his thigh. A feverous whisper ‘ _please’_ as he placed his hands back behind Illumi’s neck, cum sticking in his hair.

Shakily, the fifth vial was filled, Killua’s legs jerking like they belonged to a dead insect. Every one of Killu’s idiosyncrasies sent feelings crashing through him, leaving him helpless to this bratty, needy teenager. If Illumi had to do this for anyone else, he would have already gotten it over with. But in the haze of his own post-orgasm he admitted it to himself: _he’d do anything for Killu_. Part of him wanted to open and drink every vial he’d collected full. He didn’t know where this side of him was coming from. He wasn’t a carnal man.

He lifted Killua by the legs—following an urge to bite the back of his sweaty neck, just below his hairline, which earned a whimper—and put him on his hands and knees, Killu pliantly staying in the position he set him in. Trusting Illumi. Still helpless to his own desires despite five orgasms and being finally unchained. The hypnosis from Illumi’s compassion combined with the R.A. drug brought about an impossibly willful sort of compliance. He brought his lips up to Killua’s ear, as if this were their own little secret. “Can you hold your own vial?”

He nodded, widening his legs to steady himself and shifting his center of gravity back on his hips, ass shoved out as he reached between his own legs and held the vial. He waited, legs shaking, as Illumi fished lube out of his nightstand drawer. Killu whined a tiny, “ _Stop_.” But Illumi knew what he was doing, inserting a long, gloved finger into his body.

“It’s just a massage,” he soothed, reaching in until he felt the small prostate, warm under his fingertip. He tried not to think about inserting more than a finger into the tightness that enveloped his finger. Not yet.

Killua’s mouth hung open limply, drool stringing down in tandem with the leak of fluids from his penis into the mouth of the quaking vial and down the sides.

Moving his finger slowly turned out to be a bad idea—he’d underestimated the drug yet again—Killua’s body shuddering hard with a yelp, his arm collapsing under him and dropping the vial as he came hard on the bedsheets.

The realization of what he’d done sparked fear in his eyes, irrational thoughts of having to go through the entire process again. Tears welled up and slid down. He’d suffered so much for this only to have it wasted on the bed. His face red, blubbering like the little boy he’d stopped letting himself be a long time ago, crying over his rebellious body and a bit of spilled cum. Illumi wanted to smother him.

Instead, he removed his finger and cradled him in his arms like the child he was reduced to, Killua sniffling as snot leaked out like every other fluid from his body. Having no control over your body at sixteen really was a humiliating experience.

“ _There there_ ,” Illumi hushed him, biting his neck again in the way he liked it before, letting Killu bury his face in Illumi’s chest just like he used to. “I’m right here. It’ll be alright. You still have plenty left, you can afford to be a bit careless.” Killu hiccupped garbled words that Illumi didn’t need to understand. “We won’t tell anyone, okay?”

A nod.

“You really liked where I touched, huh?”

A nod.

A sixteen-year-old, set to inherit an empire in just a few years, reduced to sniffles and nods.

Of course, most days Illumi missed little Killu, but there was a unique kind of sweetness that could only be pulled out of him now, at this age.

Beneath Killua’s quiet whining he heard his phone vibrating on the nightstand. It could have been Father, so he looked over.

It was Gon Freecs’s number. Of all times, he had to call _now_ while he was cradling Killua against him. This curse of a boy would continue to bring a plague on their family unless something changed. Unless Illumi could take care of him once and for all—but without killing him. That would compromise things on too many ends.

It was a poor decision, but in that moment of tenderness where his senses were flooded with the smell of Killua’s sweat and cum he wasn’t exactly a bastion of reason and self-control. The drug had sucked it out of him just as much as it had Killua.

He answered the phone behind his back, turning the volume all the way down so Killua couldn’t hear the small voice saying, “Hello? Illumi?” Setting it down on the corner of the bed, face up, receiver unobstructed, knowing Killua wouldn’t notice in his delirious state.

“Killu,” he said gently into his crown of white hair. “You’re hard again.”

That quieted his self-pitying sniffles. Poor thing had always been susceptible to bouts of debilitating self-pity. It was one of the only things that could make him cry these days. Illumi missed the days when he could cause it at the drop of a hat, but this was for the best. No one else could make him cry either.

Killua wedged his legs open slowly as if they ached from how often he’d been spreading them lately. _Maybe he’d_ keep _them shut after he left_. He sighed dreamily, closing his eyes and waiting for Illumi to touch him.

He trailed a finger along the bottom of Killua’s sharp jaw, watching him shiver and gulp in anticipation. For a moment, he thought about fucking Killua with Gon on the other end of the phone. But if he couldn’t handle a finger without losing it, there was no way another vial wouldn’t be wasted on the bedsheets if he entered Killua’s body. Unfortunately, he couldn’t risk it, even though Killu was so compliant and sweet right now.

“Do you want to touch yourself now? I’ll allow it.”

Eyes landed on Illumi’s idle hands, as if thinking about all of the pleasure they could elicit from him. His own hands were sweaty and twitchy, having already failed him once before. He shook his head, closing his eyes and leaning back against Illumi’s arm, showing he was ready, expecting Illumi to pounce just like he always did.

But he was a growing boy, things wouldn’t always be as easy as waiting for your big brother to read your mind. “Use your words, Killu. Do you want me to touch you?”

“Y-yes.”

Besides, they had an audience to perform for. “Wouldn’t you rather touch yourself?”

“No.”

“Good boy.” His thumb pressed into Killua’s chin, turning his head up to meet Illumi’s lips. Gently, slowly—lingering a little too long to be passed off as platonic. His breath was sweet and Illumi hovered around his mouth for a while, feeling shallow breaths pass between his soft lips. His anticipation for another orgasm was visible on the surface of his skin, blue eyes peeking out from heavy eyelashes, impatient. Illumi’s good boy wasn’t so good and sweet after all, was he?

“That’s right, why would you want to do it yourself? Why would you want anyone else to touch you when your big brother is right here? _Oh Killu_ ,” he groaned into Killu’s mouth, shocked at how much he was losing control of himself, as if the drug’s brand of hypnosis had become airborne. “Who do you think taught your blood to run south?”

He ran his thumb over one of Killu’s hard nipples, not expecting the near-orgasmic cry that erupted from his throat. Reluctantly, he removed it. Too sensitive there too, huh?

But he wasn’t done playing yet. He couldn’t let this chance go to waste.

The cum spilled on Illumi’s bed had already gone cold; there was more than enough of it to scoop some up with his finger, putting it on his lips and tasting it. It sent a shiver through him—Transmuter sweetness beneath the salty taste of semen. How he’d missed this taste while Killu was off galivanting around a world that didn’t deserve him. No one would want pancakes and syrup again if they could taste Killu’s cum.

He pressed his lips to Killua’s again, much harder this time, making sure he was startled enough to open his mouth and taste himself. He’d worked so hard, he deserved it.

A muffled, strangled complaint passed from his lips to Illumi’s but it quickly dissolved into a moan as Illumi started rubbing his thighs. He calmed, breathing heavily, eyes fluttering shut. This drug was an angel that made him incredibly easy to placate, his anger flimsy as long as he was being touched. Being treated like this any other time would make him get up and storm out of Illumi’s bedroom.

“Don’t whine. You should be proud. Highly-concentrated sperm from Killua Zoldyck, heir of the Zoldyck empire.” He brought more to his mouth, aching as he thought about how it would be eventually used to further Killua’s genetic line, Father’s line, Grandfather’s line. How many progeny just the cum spilled on the bed could produce was mind-numbing to consider. “One could even look like your big brother. Wouldn’t that be wonderful?” An urge rushed through him; he could scoop more off the bed, take his pants off, and slide some up inside himself—

Killu whined louder in response, his thighs shaking from over-stimulation by Illumi’s frantic fingers. There was no more time to be self-indulgent.

“Do you want to me to hold the vial this time?” Illumi said, all teeth as he grabbed Killua’s hand and brought it to his still-lubed ass. The redness shot through Killua’s skin, biting his lip, nodding. Illumi wanted to smear more cum on it. “Words, Killu.”

“Yes.”

“Manners.”

“ _Please_.”

Making sure the sixth vial was positioned and ready, Illumi guided two of Killua’s shaking, pale fingers into himself. They were shorter than Illumi’s, he wasn’t sure he would be able to find his own prostate properly. But as soon as they were in, he pulled them out again and put them back in, fucking himself shallowly and his body started shuddering. “Naughty, Killu,” he whispered, gently stroking and angling the head against the vial.

It didn’t take him long for the orgasm to rip through him, shoving his fingers as deeply as he could reach as he came. The strangled cry was loud, bouncing off the stone walls and reaching Illumi’s ears again, bathing him in a bliss even more complete than orgasming. Knowing the receiver was still listening, the screen still counting how long the call had been lasting.

_Eat your heart out, rat-brained pest._

“Full again! Your body is amazing.” Illumi smiled, suddenly feeling giddy after such a long and stressful assignment. Killu was behaving so well, they were mostly to the goal with very minor hiccups. Father would be in a good mood for weeks now that this dreaded procedure was over. Mother would talk fondly of Killu’s future babies for a solid month. Everyone got what they wanted.

Illumi sealed the sixth vial, turning to give Killua a congratulatory kiss and dab the sweat away from his brows.

He was slumped against Illumi’s shoulder, fast asleep, a slight snoring due to the angle of his head. One finger was still stuck inside him. Despite being in a deep sleep, his dick was semi-hard again.

For a moment, Illumi considered waking him to finish the procedure. But the relaxed muscles drooping on his sleeping face gave him repose. It didn’t need to be finished immediately. There was no time limit. As long as he collected everything Killua could produce while the drug was still in effect, there was no rush. In fact, the longer it took the more time he would get to spend with him. The longer it would take Killua to leave home again.

It appeared the pest had finally hung up after getting a good earful of Killu’s moaning. He put his cellphone back on the nightstand, picked Killua up, laid him back comfortably on the sheets, and drew the curtain closed so the morning light wouldn’t disturb his restful sleep. He laid a clean blanket over the spots of cum, stripped his own clothing, and laid down. Killua’s skin was freezing cold from being naked for so long, Illumi’s warm chest pressing into his back. The curve of Killu’s butt pressing into his crotch.

He laced his fingers through both of Killua’s, making sure his hands were firmly secure, wishing he could have held hands with him the entire time instead of using the chains. Kissing the back of his neck where he marked, Illumi finally closed his eyes.

When Killu woke up they’d continue, and Illumi would keep him there until they could both regain some semblance of willpower.

 

This time there were sweet pastries, donuts, crepes, cheese Danishes, cinnamon rolls, raspberry pinwheels—everything Killua loved so he could replenish his appetite after so long of barely eating. It was a perfect spread, Illumi made sure of it. Milluki wasn’t even allowed to touch it until Killua made it to the table.

Killua was even more angry at him than usual. After he’d woken up from their second round of collecting, showered and eaten and changed, he’d called Gon to check in with him.

As it turned out, Illumi’s plan went as planned. He was always telling Killua that his actions had consequences, and it turned out he was right.

Killua had tried to explain it away as some form of strange torture, so he was already irritable for being forced to lie; the reminder from Illumi that _what they had done together seemed to be a far cry from torturous_ made him bristle like a porcupine. His hand was nearly bitten off in that moment, and Killua hadn’t spoken to him since.

The silent treatment was the worst. Why couldn’t Killua just take a swipe at him and be done with it? Illumi wouldn’t even fight back, he’d just accept it as something Killua needed to do to retaliate and make himself feel better. But no, instead he got the _silent treatment_.

“If he doesn’t come down before the donuts get cold, I’m going to be pissed.” Milluki drank a glass of milk to whet his appetite while they waited. He was incredibly cranky when anyone made him wait to start eating, but even more so when Killua was the cause.

“Be kind, Millu. You of all people know what he went through.” Illumi said, voice sharper than he intended. Reminding Milluki how he’d nearly caved and destroyed the entire procedure due to greed and vanity. He certainly remembered because his head hung, and he puffed his pink cheeks out to keep himself from retorting.

Illumi had been keeping a vigilant eye out for Killua and hadn’t been expecting Father to arrive as well. He winced as Father laid eyes on the spread—he wasn’t allowed to baby Killu like this. And with Milluki waiting to eat, it was immediately obvious what he was doing. No use in denying it or making excuses.

“Ah, I didn’t realize you had returned.”

“Last night.” He yawned, fanning himself with the newspaper he’d not yet unrolled. For as relaxed as his body language appeared, his eyes were sharp, judgmental. “I trust the procedure went according to plan?”

“Yes, Father.”

“No hiccups?”

The phantom taste of Killua’s spilled cum filled his dry mouth. “None.”

“How many emissions?”

“Papa, gross!” Milluki whined, having to take his eyes off the pastries at the mention of Killua’s ejaculate. But a biting glare from Father sent him quiet. He was even less willing to put up with Milluki’s childish nature than usual. Must have been an exhausting assignment for him as well.

Illumi steadied his voice as much as possible, heart pounding at the thought of how many times he’d placed the vial up against Killu’s erection and gently lead him to orgasm. “Twenty-six.”

“Incredible.” Father said, his voice much less enthusiastic than Illumi’s had been. But there was a bit of genuine awe.

He had to shove deep his impulse to tell Father and Milluki how well Killu did. How much pain and arousal and agony he went through. How he came over and over again, tears in his eyes, sometimes pumping his fingers in and out of his body, accepting messy kisses in the heat of his intense orgasms, letting Illumi soothe and rile him up over and over until he passed out. He had even been able to hold his own vial steady a few times without spilling. Twenty-seven times total. Killu was amazing.

Illumi’s face heated up over his empty plate, thankful Father’s eyes were now on his newspaper. A butler brought out eggs and ham for Father and he took one of Killua’s croissants off the top of the spread. Milluki shot indignant glares at Illumi, but Illumi avoided them.

Finally, Killua came down, walking slowly, his wrists and neck bandaged. One to hide damage and the other to hide love. He was still chaffed and sore, his entire body aching as badly as it had even during electroshock training. He smelled like peppermint and some kind of cologne, Illumi’s heart aching at no longer being able to smell sex and sweat on his skin.

It was strange to see him unaccompanied after two weeks of always being shadowed. Canary was more than likely still checking the quality of samples, logging the measurements and questionnaires, and arranging the samples for transportation pending final review by the heads of the household. Illumi couldn’t help but think he looked lonely with no one at his side.

“Killu! Father was very impressed with your results, he—”

Killua ignored his sapphires and strawberries plate in the place next to Illumi and sat on the other side of the table, in what was normally Grandfather’s seat; plucked six of his favorite pastries from the spread and stuffed his mouth so full it became clear he wouldn’t respond. His cheeks were red from the presence of Illumi and Milluki in one place after they’d both seen him so indisposed.

Milluki set off like he’d been given the starting pistol, stacking them high on his plate before Kalluto and Alluka came down to eat. Mother wouldn’t eat any, but Kalluto and Alluka could really put away food at their age.

“Killua, how are you feeling?” Father asked cordially, eyes not leaving the paper. Maybe because he couldn’t face Killua after knowing what he’d just gone through.

“Shitty, thanks.” He said, squirreling the pastry into one side of his cheeks, never noticing when he exhibited the bad table manners he mocked Milluki for.

“I trust you had ample assistance while I was away.” A review. He was asking Killua to review Canary and Illumi’s behavior.

Killua choked, pounding on his chest and taking Father’s glass of orange juice to wash it down. He kept coughing, tears rising up in his eyes that made Illumi quickly look down at his still-empty place.

Brain filled with the echoes of Killua’s cries he grabbed a donut at random, nibbling on it and feeling warm jelly spill out onto his palm. Just like—

It was then that Mother arrived, bleary-eyed in a shorter gown that hit her mid-thigh, showing the scars that twisted up her thin legs. She only showed up so under-dressed after she and Father had had a long, intimate night. Usually after extended assignments that kept him away from home. The collar of her gown was high, but Illumi was certain her neck matched Killua’s.

Her voice was hoarse when she ran over to him, flinging her arms around his neck and stroking his hair. “Oh Killu, Mama’s so proud! My little man—how many times was it? Don’t be shy!”

Mother could be tactless, Illumi admitted as he watched Killua throw her hands off him—impressively enough without letting his claws come out. He’d learned that she would like that; he really had grown up. “I don’t know! I’m _eating_ , stop.”

She then set her eyes on Illumi, placing a hand on the side of his neck and squeezing as if massaging—or imagining strangling him from behind. “Illu, how’d my baby do?”

Killua looked at him directly for the first time since he found out about Gon’s phone call, eyebrows plunged low, but a weakness in his eyes.

Ah, that inappropriate pity again.

Instead of answering Mother, he took another large bite of the jelly donut. It was too sweet. It needed an undercurrent of salt. He instantly regretted making this his excuse for keeping quiet.

“Illu! Don’t you dare ignore Mama—”

“Come now, it’s much too early for all of this.” Father said into his mug of coffee, the bags under his eyes looking even deeper than they had a moment ago. Mother let go of his neck, happily taking the seat next to Father instead of her usual place in front of him. She laid her head on his large bicep, soothed by memories of the night before.

Illumi looked back over to Killua, who was again busying himself with eating and avoiding eye contact. His heart felt like crumpled paper. If he got up and took the seat next to Killu, would he run?

Kalluto and Alluka came in; Kalluto already dressed and pristine in his kimono, Alluka still in pajamas. Both their eyes lit up at the spread before them, Alluka’s smile wide at a family meal where everyone was present. At least it was making someone happy.

Sometimes they liked to sleep with their favorite hounds, one spotted grey and the other a blue sheen, who came strolling in after them, tails wagging with lazy happiness. Father didn’t particularly like them babying the hounds, but it didn’t seem to decondition them or do harm to their behavior, so he allowed it. When the hounds saw Father, they laid at his feet, far enough from the table not to be confused with begging.

Grandfather came in shortly after, not looking nearly as exhausted as Father. They must have gotten back early the evening before, enough time for at least Grandfather to rest. He smiled a teasing smile at the sight of Killua, sitting in his seat, bandaged up and strung out. “You think because you’ve completed the R.A. procedure that you’re the head now, sonny?”

After having eaten five of his six pastries, he began to stand. “Here, sit. It’s all yours. I’ve got to head out anyway.”

At the word ‘sit’ the hounds rose into a sitting position. Everyone turned to stare at them; it was eerie for the hounds to obey anyone else when Father was in the room.  Entirely unnatural. They were rapt with attention, noses in the air, their bright eyes on Killua’s hands in case he decided to give any nonverbal signals. Even Killua couldn’t believe his words had resulted in such swift obedience and his mouth hung open as he stood half-raised from his seat.

The last quarter of donut fell from Illumi’s hand and plopped down onto his plate. His brain couldn’t even begin to process what this meant, but it went against every bit of sense he’d known since he was young. Even Grandfather’s commands were ignored by the hounds when Father was in the room. Father was their god.

_Even untrained, they were smart enough to recognize who was in command._

This discomforting atmosphere caused Killua to leave even quicker. As his footsteps took him from the stunned silence, the hounds rose and followed him out. Father didn’t say or do anything to stop them from leaving, just watched in fascination. Illumi followed behind them.

The silent treatment was pervasive down the halls on the way to Killua’s room, nothing but the sounds of the hound’s claws on the floor and Illumi’s heart in his ears. Killua wasn’t stopping him or the hounds from following, wasn’t ordering them to go back, which was abnormal even for the silent treatment.

They reached Killua’s room, and he disappeared behind the doorframe, leaving the door ajar.

Illumi stopped, watching the hounds nose their way into the room with no scolding or protesting from Killua. It was silent. Unsure of what his own aim actually was, Illumi entered the room.

Killua was on his new bed, which was even larger than the old one he’d destroyed. Since he’d been so sour and irritated, he didn’t want to redesign his own room like Illumi suggested. Since Killu had destroyed Illumi’s mattress and sheets as well, he ordered them both the same bed. Killua’s new comforter was plush and a deep blue with hand-stitched gold feathers. It made his white bandages reflect the gold when he perched on top of them.

There was something different about him as he watched the hounds lay at the foot of his bed.

“How many times was it?”

The silent treatment was over.

“Reported at twenty-six.” He moved closer, testing the waters, seeing if Killua was going to start yelling at him to get out. “Twenty-seven, if you count the one that didn’t make it into a vial.”

Killua’s eyes met his, halting him a few feet from the end of the bed, hand coming up and absentmindedly itching the bandage on his neck. “Dad wouldn’t have been happy with twenty-five?” It wasn’t a question but an accusation.

The spotted hound put his ears down flat on his head and licked his chops. Killua’s voice was deep, a timbre like Father’s rumbled somewhere in his chest. Almost as though the R.A. procedure had warped Father and Killua’s voices in the same way.

“What do mean by—”

“Even though you were eating it off the bed, you never used your mouth.”

Surely this was one of Illumi’s daydreams that had taken off on its own from which he would wake an hour later with lost time and an uncomfortable erection. He had to have gotten bored doing paperwork in his study; the air was too heavy in here to be real, his bed was so big, it looked bigger than Illumi’s from this angle. The hounds didn’t whimper at the feet of anyone but Father. Killu didn’t unbutton his own pants in front of Illumi without command or substance forcing his fingers to move. It was a dream because there was no way Killu would want to get off again less than forty-eight hours after ejaculating twenty-seven times. The R.A. drug had worn off by now.

_It will also increase your production quality and rate in the future, potentially even decades down the line._

“I think you should apologize to Gon. Tell him it was a stupid prank that you and Milluki set up on his computer.” Killu took himself out of his pants, hard and straining. “It would make my life easier. You’ll do that for me, won’t you?”

Illumi didn’t know why he was nodding. Killu’s voice was so much like Father’s. His eyes told Illumi to come closer, so his feet moved.

“Kneel.”

The hounds cocked their heads, not understanding the command. Illumi understood.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave me a comment!! Gimme a heart, a quote you liked, predictions, something you'd like to see, your opinion - anything and everything is appreciated. I love you all!!
> 
> Thank you for all of your love and support, you can find out more about me and my writing on https://illukillua.tumblr.com and https://twitter.com/shiroppan
> 
> Love,  
> Brocon ❤️❤️


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